


A King's Sorcerer

by dellanec



Series: Kings of Camelot [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angry Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), M/M, Merlin Leaves Camelot (Merlin), Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 39,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27599564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dellanec/pseuds/dellanec
Summary: When Merlin left, Arthur wasn't sure he'd ever see his friend again. He certainly didn't think they'd meet on the battlefield.(Originally titled Prequel to a King's King)New title courtesy of the lovely @honey_youre_familiar
Relationships: Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Kings of Camelot [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011696
Comments: 189
Kudos: 313





	1. Chapter 1

Arthur watches from his chair as Merlin works, his servant lazily preparing a bath, muttering childishly about some noble he finds 'completely obnoxious.' The king knows he _should_ scold the younger man for such words, but he's far too distracted with the way his manservant's nose scrunches in anger...it's just so ~~adorable~~ distracting. 

_Bollocks, it's more than distracting. Merlin is beautiful._ Anyone with half a brain knows that. He's beautiful in his own strange, scrawny, mystifying way and it's Arthur's own personal hell. Years ago he could acknowledge that beauty and move on with his day, but feelings had grown faster than he could have ever expected and they refused to be cast aside. They burnt at his very being, tore his heart open, and left it raw and desperate for more. Just a touch...or a smile, it was never enough. Was there such a thing as 'enough Merlin' anyway?

Arthur knew well enough that his manservant cared for him, but he could never tell if it was in _that_ manner. He’d catch the glances and protective lingers but he remained unsure. Was it just blind service? A young boy who looked up to a prince turned king? It could be, but Merlin wasn't a young boy anymore...in fact, far from it. He had grown into his lanky body over the years. Still as clumsy and idiotic as ever, but 20 years of age now, a little stronger, more confident, and just as comforting.

Arthur was positively in love and he had no idea what to do. 

_Would it even be possible?_ _If Merlin did feel that way, could they act upon it?_ _Beyond sex, beyond secret exchanges, was there any hope for them?_

His heart clenches at the idea, a grim reminder of why expressing such emotions was impossible...unfair. 

Merlin deserved better. He deserved someone he could openly speak to, someone he could come home to, hold, confide in. All the things lovers could do and all the things Arthur could _never_ give to him. 

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?”

The king blinks, shaking his head to discard his thoughts in favor of glaring at his servant, "Even if I _wanted_ to listen to you, which I don't. I could hardly keep up with the way you ramble on.”

Merlin shoots him his own glare as he pours the last bucket, “You’re such a prat, did you know that?"

“And you’re an idiot. Now is my bath ready, or do you plan on taking another hour?”

“When I’m gone you’ll finally learn to appreciate me.” 

Arthur hates the statement, but he could hardly reveal the immense protectiveness he held for the younger man. He never wants Merlin to be gone, the very thought makes him feel incomplete, but he's a liar, a fake, and he hides behind pitiful sarcasm.

“What happened to your undying devotion, serving me until your very last breath?” he smirks, watching Merlin's scowl grow. 

“Exactly! What if I die tomorrow? You’ll feel guilty for torturing me the way you do. I expect a feast in my honor.”

“You’re a servant," he says, a pointed roll of his eyes, "Why on Earth would you get a feast?” 

Arthur would build a statue of the bloody man if he could, but such thoughts were pointless; Merlin wasn't leaving nor was he dying. Not on Arthur's watch. 

“I somehow dealt with you for four years, doesn't that warrant me a feast of sorts?” 

“Merlin-” 

“You're going to tell me to shut up again." Merlin sighs, ushering him from his chair towards the bath. 

“Well aren't you the little genius?” 

His manservant grumbles, sticking his tongue out in a way that's far too endearing, “I despise you, you know that right? Get into the bath, you reek terribly.”

“I should have you executed for that mouth of yours.”

Arthur regrets the joke the moment it leaves his mouth, watching as Merlin's smile instantly drops, a pained expression horribly concealed by pursed lips. 

_Gods, does Arthur hate when he fucks up like this._

His manservant remains quiet as he begins to undress him. No more bickering or jokes. Merlin’s stoic and quick, and Arthur knows he’ll be gone as soon as he can.

“Merlin,” he attempts, in his own horrible way of comfort, "Why are you being such a girl? I was only joking with you.”

The younger man continues silently, refusing to meet his eyes. Merlin only gestures towards the bath when he's rid him of his final item of clothing. “Your bath is ready. Don’t let it go cold, it’s a hassle to reheat.”

“Merlin-”

“Arthur, it’s fine.”

_But it's not._

The king steps into the tub, grateful for the instant warmth that ease tense muscles. He closes his eyes as he awaits the familiar scrubbing that always followed.

It was not the first time his manservant had acted in such a way and despite the popular belief that lords did not care what their servants thought of them, that was absolutely untrue for Arthur. It hurt, in fact, it pained him quite a lot that Merlin became so tense in moments that were meant to be lighthearted. 

There was much Arthur could not comprehend about their dynamic. Did Merlin still not trust him after all these years _?_ And if so why? They'd done everything together for four years, inseparable through battles and adventure, and yet, he still knew so little about the other. Sure, they were servant and master, but Merlin was his best friend, the man he adored with all of his heart. He so badly wants to understand, but secrecy and tension always come between them, a wedge that refuses to budge. 

The scrubbing never comes, and his patience quickly dwindles, the cooling water no longer a relief. Arthur forces his eyes open, spotting the younger man across the room, rearranging items noncommittally, unfocused as he works. 

“Merlin," he calls, a failed attempt at keeping his exasperation at bay. 

“What?” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be-” The blond gestures at his body, uncomfortable with the idea of having to ask... _he had never had to before._

“Can you not bathe yourself?” Merlin all but spits, resent evident in each word.

Arthur may be king now, but he's not an entirely new man, his annoyance bests him even when he wishes to remain calm and Merlin's insolence in moments like this is not at all endearing but rather completely unwelcome, a reminder that his servant doesn't want him like he wants Merlin... _like he needs him._

"It is your job to bathe me, mind you."

“I figured you could be an adult and do it yourself today? Or was I wrong?

“You were wrong," he snaps bitterly.

The royal thing to do would be to yell at the man, threaten him with more work or the stocks. But he doesn’t, because he just wants the brunette close. He doesn't want to push him farther away than he already is.

Merlin slowly makes his way over, face blank and unwavering as he reaches for cloth and begins scrubbing. The touch is quick, rough, and lacks its usual intimacy-- that maybe Arthur imagines, but it's at least better than this abuse--

“Why do you get like this?" Arthur grits, wincing when Merlin only scrubs harder, "It’s not like you have anything to be scared of. I'm not a vicious king who executes people without reason. The only people sentenced are those who are dangerous. You’re my manservant you have nothing to worry-”

“Arthur, stop it.” 

“No,” He returns angrily, turning to face the brunette, water sloshing out of the tub to Merlin's obvious dismay, “Do you not trust me? Do you think I’d hurt you, Merlin?”

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“It matters to me.”

“Well it shouldn’t." Merlin says tightly, a tone Arthur has only heard when the other has grown tired of his antics, "You said it yourself I’m just a manservant. You shouldn’t care.” 

“Don’t do that!" Arthur groans, "You know that’s not what I meant. You’re my friend, I trust you with my life."

The silence returns as his manservant begins washing his hair, ignoring the disbelieving look the king places upon him

_There has to be a reason. Does Merlin think him a cruel man? He has to know._

“I don't enjoy having people executed. I don't ever enjoy having to kill anyone, but as king, it is my duty.”

Merlin shakes his head dismissively, eyes refusing to meet his own, “I said I was done with this conversation.”

Arthur's agitation only grows and he knows he is the last person to complain about lack of communication, but dammit, he's trying and he just doesn't understand why this happens--

“Well, I say we're not Merlin. You get like this often and it doesn't make sense. If you don't tell me, I'll be forced to find out.”

"You won't be forced to do anything! It's none of your business and quite frankly I don't ever remember you giving a damn about me."

The king stares in disbelief, mouth slightly agape. Merlin knows Arthur cares about him...he has to, there's just no way he doesn't. Or...he doesn't.

“It becomes my business when you start treating me like this." Arthur grits, and it's not at all what he truly wishes to say. 

"Oh, I'm sorry your majesty," Merlin sneers, sarcasm dripping from each word, "I forgot that I was supposed to kneel before you at all times of the day and tell you every bit of my personal life."

Arthur startles, pointing a wet finger at his servant in accusation. _"_ This is what I mean! Why are you talking like this? What the hell is wrong with you?”

His servant tosses the towel to the ground with a humorless laugh, standing with a sudden urgency, “What's wrong with me?! What's wrong with you Arthur?! There are _three children_ in the dungeons right now, sentenced to death and you make jokes of execution. How is that right? How is that fair?”

The king's frustration only boils further, threatening to spill into shouts. Merlin was behaving as if Arthur enjoyed doing such things, as if he was doing it for pleasure rather than necessity. He was the last person who wanted to send the Druid children to the dungeon, to sentence them to death, but he was a new king and he had to tread lightly, had to ensure his kingdom was safe from all threats. “Is that what this is about? You _know_ what happened Merlin. They came to Camelot, where magic is illegal. They knew the punishment and yet they still came, how can we be sure they weren’t sent here to gather information or attack?”

Merlin scoffs, staring at him with a disappointment Arthur abhors. _Everyone could be disappointed...but not Merlin, never Merlin._ “They were running away from being hunted! Searching for refuge and _this_ is how you welcome them? You threw them into the dungeons without letting them explain. They're children Arthur, children!”

The anger on his servant's face is blinding, his voice strong and unrelenting. The king knows the tone all too well. The younger man has no intention of backing down.

“So what? Do you want me to let them go? Shall I let every sorcerer go because they’re too young or too old, too innocent, or too frail? If we keep letting them go, we’ll have an army against us.”

“You already do!" Merlin exclaims, fists clenched by his sides, "Morgana has been recruiting people to move forward with her attacks for ages now.”

“Exactly! How would letting sorcerers go join her, help our cause?”

“How is _killing them_ proving you’re different from Uther? Word travels, why wouldn’t they want to join Morgana when they hear what Camelot is doing to them? You’ll look just as horrible as the last king if you execute those children.”

_And shit, does that hurt more than Merlin's disappointed face._

Arthur's nerves are steadily conquering him and his teeth grind together painfully, begging him to mind his words, “Watch your tongue, Merlin. You’re speaking treason.”

“I’m speaking the truth." The brunette states plainly, "Your father killed hundreds if not thousands of innocent people and you are heading down the same twisted path.”

“I said **enough!** ”

It may true, but that doesn't mean he wants to hear it. 

Merlin deflates as he stares down at him, the fight visibly draining from him, “I’ve supported you because I have faith you’ll be different, but if you plan on ruling like him...I just can’t.”

“You can’t _what_?" Arthur grits, rubbing a hand down his face. 

“I can’t serve you...I can't watch you turn into _that._ ”

Arthur's anger flitters towards panic. Merlin had never mentioned leaving his side and Arthur _had never_ entertained the thought.

“You’d...leave me?” he whispers, uncertainty carrying quietly through the room. 

“I couldn’t bear to see you be like that Arthur.”

 _Then I won't be like that,_ he thinks. It's that simple. Whatever it takes, if it means Merlin stays, he's willing to do anything. “What do you want me to do then?"

“I can’t tell you that," Merlin returns gently, "You’re the king, you have to make these decisions yourself.”

Arthur scoffs at that, “You have no problem yelling at me or threatening to leave. So tell me what I can do to make things right. I’m lost. I’ve been king for 3 months and quite frankly I'm overwhelmed. I’m confused and it seems like you’re the only person I can count on to be honest with me. I’m asking you to speak freely, not as a servant but as my friend."

Merlin remains quiet, contemplating as he stares at the floor, nervous hands wringing in front of him, “I want you to do what you think is right, not what the laws state. I want you to be proud of your kingdom, of its policies and treatment of citizens, I want you to go to bed knowing you’re doing good and that innocent people aren’t being slaughtered without reason...and most importantly, I want you to be happy. That’s the future I hope you’ll have Arthur, but that’s _only_ possible if you choose how you'll rule, not if you follow after the footsteps of your father.”

“It’s not that simple, it's never been that simple Merlin.” Gods, does he wish it was.

“I know that, but I also know that you’ll hate yourself if you reign with the hopes of pleasing the old council. You’re allowed to make a new one, with people you trust, people that will stand behind you. You have that power now, you don’t have to be scared.”

But Arthur is scared and that's the root of all his uncertainties. There were too many possibilities, too many things to go wrong. Before he had his father to rely on if worst came to worst but now...he had nothing. No excuses or explanation for failed treaties or laws. The pressure built every waking moment, a threat that he may explode if he takes one more breath.

“There are so many things that I know my father did wrong. But what if he was right? What if I end up being wrong and lead Camelot astray? Then what?”

“You won’t." 

“You can’t be sure," he sighs. 

“ _I can_." Merlin insists, and there is so much confidence in his voice that every fiber in Arthur wants to trust and hold the man. He wants to believe. "I’ve told you that you’re the king who will bring Camelot into its golden age. You’re going to be amazing. Your future is so bright Arthur, you just have to be true to yourself.”

Arthur swells with pride and want. It's a dream that seems unattainable but when Merlin says it, he sounds so certain it makes Arthur want to create a dream so elaborate and perfect...so them. 

“If you mean it, I want you in that future. By my side Merlin. You’re the only person I trust to stay with me.”

His servant sighs, nodding in tired agreement, “I know and I want to be there for you. I told you I’d be your servant until I-”

“ **No."** Arthur interrupts, "Not like that. You’re not fit to be my manservant forever. Hell, you’re barely fit to be one now.” 

Merlin raises a brow in confusion, a trait acquired long ago from Gauis. “So then...what do you-”

"Before anything, I want you to trust me the same way I trust you. I want you to know and truly believe I’d never do anything to purposely harm you. I couldn’t, not when I care about you the way I do.”

Merlin flushes brightly, eyes wide at the sudden affection of his words. It wasn't even half of Arthur's feelings but it was far more than he had ever admitted before. 

“You-you shouldn’t say things like that." His servant stammers, "If someone were to hear you, they’d think you had a heart, wouldn’t want that now, would we, your majesty?”

The use of title makes Arthur wince, standing as he steps from the tub, wrapping a towel around his waist in some attempt at modesty. "I don't care about that. I just want to know what's going on with you. I promise you we'll discuss the punishment of those children right after, but I need you to talk to me."

His servant visibly pales, stepping back cautiously and Arthur is almost certain he'll run, until Merlin urges out an unconvincing response, “You-you know everything important about me.”

“That’s not true, is it?” The king steps forward, hand reaching down to grab Merlin’s trembling ones. The younger man tenses before giving a hesitant shake, staring down at their entwined hands. 

“I want you to trust me, Merlin, because you _can_ trust me.”

“I know, but-”

“No, there's no but. Just trust me.” 

Merlin looks up to meet his eyes and Arthur sees all the hurt and exhaustion in his face. _He wants it gone, he wants Merlin full of love and happiness and youth._ The king doesn’t let go of the slender hands, instead pulling his servant towards him. Their bodies are closer than ever as Merlin lowers his gaze with a hesitant mutter, “You won't understand." 

“Then I'll try," Arthur whispers gently. "You just have to give me a chance." 

"I...don't want you to hate me."

No, the only thing Arthur hates is the pain in the other's voice, the way Merlin believes he could ever do anything other than love him. Merlin is everything to him. Strong and brave, and the only person he knows will never betray him...how could he ever hate someone so perfect?

"What are you saying? I could never hate you-"

"Don't say that." Merlin interrupts brokenly, "Don't make promises like that. You have no idea who I am."

_Who he is? What on earth does that mean?_

Arthur lifts his servant's face so their gazes meet once more. “You're worrying me. Merlin if someone's threatening you, if you feel like you have to go through something alone, you don't. No matter how many insults or chores I throw your way, I'm here for you...always." 

His manservant shies away, eyes clouded and unfocused, "I'm not in danger, I'm fine Arthur I swear. Let's just forget about this all...please. I won't be like this anymore, I'll make sure to-"

No, absolutely not. He could not have Merlin continue to prance around believing he had to hide from him. 

"It's not fine if you have to pretend to be okay. I'm not forgetting about this. I'll do everything in my power to find out what's wrong." 

Merlin tugs away from his grasp, anger brewing at his stubbornness. "Just because I'm your servant doesn't mean you get to know everything about me!"

Arthur takes his own step back, frustration finally meeting its ignition, "Do you think I would care about just any servant's life?! I care because it's you! Because I want to protect you and I can not do that when you keep pulling away! Do you not get how much you mean to me, Merlin?!"

The younger man buries his head into his hands, voice shaky and soft, "Stop it Arthur...please. I'm trying not to hurt you."

“You're hurting me more by pushing me away."

“I’m sorry..." Merlin croaks, "I never thought this would be so hard."

Arthur doesn't think as he moves forward and collects Merlin in his arms, pulling him into a tight embrace _._ They've never hugged before but he wants the hurt gone. He wants the confusion and unspoken words to happen. He wants so much. 

Merlin presses further into his arms, burying his head into his chest. As if he belongs there...and Arthur thinks he does. Nothing has ever felt so right, so comforting.

"I don't want to lose you." His servant whispers, "You are my destiny, Arthur, my king. There is no one else I want to be by. I don't know what I'll do if that changes...If I can't be by your side."

It's the wrong time for what he does next, he knows it. They're stuck between lies and secrecy and affection they've never shared before but Arthur is still just a flawed man and he can't help but cup Merlin's face and lean forward. Stopping only inches from soft pink lips with a ridiculous hope that his feelings are reciprocated. _It's all so reckless and stupid...he's risking it all for a damn kiss._

“Can I kiss you? Can I promise you, you won't lose me?"

Merlin gulps, shutting his eyes and breathing shakily, “I want to say yes. Gods, there is nothing more I want to do than say yes to you right now.”

Arthur's heart hammers, a dangerous ridiculous thing, "Then say it. Say yes.”

“I can’t...Arthur, I can't. I’m not the man you think I am.”

The king leans back an inch to study the other’s face, a slight fondness at the statement. He doesn't know what secret Merlin is harboring but he knows it could hardly change the way he feels about him, “Merlin," he smiles softly, "You're an incompetent, frail, fool. A few of the many reasons I happen to enjoy your presence. Unless you've been lying about all that, you don't have anything to-"

“And what if I have?" Merlin croaks, "What if I'm not really frail or incompetent?"

Arthur pulls back further, forcing a laugh as he waits for his manservant to join him. Nothing comes, Merlin's face has lost all color, now a pale, tired white. The king feels an uncomfortable twist as he stares, his next question hesitant and laced in uncertainty, “Have you...been lying to me?”

“I -- yes.” 

_What?_

“What are you trying to say?”

There's only a beat of silence before his manservant speaks, so soft he struggles to hear, but he does...he hears it and he almost wishes he hasn't. “Will wasn’t the sorcerer.” 

Arthur tenses, a strange mix of confusion and anxiety overcoming him. “Where did that come from? Is this about the executions?”

“No -- just listen." Merlin tries, gripping at his hand as if it's his lifeline, "Will wasn’t...he wasn’t the person who used magic that day.”

“That makes no sense. Why would he lie about that?”

“Because he loved me. He wanted to...keep me safe.”

Arthur tries to suppress the jealousy that rages from within, tries to focus on what's being implied. _It doesn’t make sense._

“What does that have to do with-”

_Oh. Oh...no._

“No," he chokes, immediately shaking his head. There is no way-

“I swear to you, I’ve only ever used-”

“Shut up. Shut up this isn’t funny. You’ve done this before and I’ve never believed you. I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you Merlin.”

His servant is joking. Trying to get back at him for his previous joke. That’s all this is. That’s what he's talking about. _It has to be._

“Arthur-”

“No!” He’s startled by his own outburst, but the desperation is seeping into him far too quickly. Merlin looks so serious, so honest. “I said it’s not funny. Shut up.”

Merlin squeezes his hand, a failed attempt at comfort, “We can not continue on if you don’t know the truth, I’m trying to-”

“You aren't- You aren’t one of _them_. You're you. You're Merlin, pretty, clumsy, dumb...but you're not that. Just tell me you’re messing around like always. I won't be mad if you tell me your joking, I swear I'll-"

The guilt on his servant's face is an interruption in itself and his stomach churns in a way it never has before. Arthur snatches his hand free, staggering back. Everywhere Merlin has touched is on fire. A horrible burning sensation, its comfort long gone.

"Arthur, I’ve only ever tried to protect you, keep you safe, and make sure you become king. I-”

"Magic, you’re talking about magic, aren’t you?”

Merlin's face drops, his outstretched arm falling to his side, “Yes."

“You’re a sorcerer.” Saying the word out loud makes him want to sink into the ground and it only worsens when Merlin doesn't deny it. He denies nothing. 

“Show me.” Arthur forces out. He doesn’t understand any of the emotions flowing through him. He can’t even begin to grasp his thoughts. He’s talking and he’s not sure how. If he sees it. If Merlin does magic in front of him-then--then what? “Show me your magic. I want to see it.”

“But-”

“ **Now.** ” His tone leaves no room for discussion. 

Merlin's frame visibly shakes as he steps away. Standing in the center of the room unmoving, silently pleading. But Arthur just stares. Waiting. 

“Do it." He demands, ignoring the servant's flinch. 

And then Merlin's eyes flash gold and there's an appearance of a blue light floating through the air. Arthur recognizes it immediately. _From the cave. The light that led him to safety._

He’s going to be sick. It’s a miracle he’s still breathing.

“All four years?” His voice is frighteningly steady for how close he is to retching. 

The light immediately disappears, gold eyes returning to blue, “Yes."

“Who taught you?”

“No one...I was born with-"

“Why are you here? In Camelot?” 

“To-to protect-”

 _No, he didn’t want to hear that._ He had been betrayed by the one man he trusted, confided in...loved. He doesn't want to hear about it being for his own good.“Shut the _fuck_ up. To protect me? That’s why you’ve lied to me, infiltrated the kingdom? Do you think I’d believe that? Are you-are you working with Morgana?”

Merlin shakes his head viciously, eyes shining with unshed tears. “What? No, never. I would never-”

“When you said I didn’t know you I thought you meant your past. I thought you’d tell me about your father or some life-changing experience. But you’re a fucking sorcerer. No wonder you don't want those children executed. You’re one of _them_. You pity them because they're _your kind."_

He doesn't care that Merlin bites back a sob, he wants the man to feel pain. Just like the one that rips at his heart in that very moment. 

“Arthur-"

“Don’t you dare say my name," he rages darkly, "You-you've lied to me for years. You've-”

“Please," Merlin begs desperately, "Listen I-”

“Don't-” His hands shake and he's blind with anger, heartache, betrayal. His voice booms dangerously throughout the usually quiet chambers. “Don’t tell me to listen to you. You don’t deserve to be listened to. Not after this. Everything we’ve been through together and it was all a lie.”

Arthur feels himself crumbling. He's so fucking lost, he just wants to be alone...needs to be.

“Get out.”

“Wait-” Merlin begs, hands moving forward as if to touch. Arthur draws back with a jerk, hand gripping the sword that rests against his bed. 

“If I have to repeat myself I’ll draw my sword.” He doesn’t mean it...at least he doesn’t think he does. They’re words he thought he'd never say. Not to Merlin, not to the sweet boy with the bright smile, the clumsy idiot who did more trouble than chores.

But nothing is the same anymore. Everything has changed. Everything is wrong. 

“I swear to you Arthur-”

“Your word means nothing!" The king accuses," Your promises even less. You’ll hear from me when I decide what to do with you, I don't want to see you until then.”

“I would never hurt you." Merlin quavers, "You are my destiny. I want to keep you safe, I’ve only ever wanted to-”

 _“I said get out!"_ Arthur roars, louder than he ever has, voice raw and fierce like it has never been before.

Alone. He just has to be left alone. 

“I’m so sorry.” It’s barely above a whisper, the man before him trembling harder. And he has the nerve to look sad...broken. It only makes Arthur angrier. More bitter. 

“Leave or I’ll drag you down to the pyre myself.”

Merlin’s lip quivers violently, a choked sob covered as he turns. 

But Arthur doesn’t care. He waits until the traitor leaves, letting his anger overtake him as he smashes priceless vases and shouts at the ceiling with every ounce of pain; cursing the gods, himself, everyone, and everything he could think of. 

It's not the proper behavior of a king. But he’s hardly a king now. Just a heartbroken man.

_Betrayed...again._

* * *

On the other side of the chamber doors, Merlin lets the sobs overcome him, listening to the anger and pain in his king’s curses. 

He knows far too well that staying isn’t an option anymore. Not if he wants to live...or protect Arthur. 

His decision is simple, even through the tears and the heartwrenching goodbye to Gauis, Merlin knows the kingdom is no longer his home. Arthur _can no longer_ be his home and he resigns himself than to a new fate. Watching from afar, protecting from afar.

That night Merlin doesn’t only leave the king’s chambers, he leaves Camelot behind, with a pain in his heart so harrowing it burns. 

_Why had Destiny entwined him with a man that hates his very existence? And why had Merlin fallen so terribly in love with him?_


	2. Chapter 2

There comes a point in the night where the sheer power of agony turns him numb. Physically and mentally. He no longer feels the breaks in his skin or the thoughts that burnt his brain only hours ago. 

Broken pieces of ceramics litter the floor, his knuckles bleed gruesomely from the reckless punches he had thrown at every priceless item he could attain. It doesn't matter though. The vases could be replaced, hands could heal, blood could wash from the floors, but Merlin...Merlin. There was no going back from that. 

Arthur has _finally_ lost everything...everyone he'd ever loved. 

“Arthur?” The voice comes from outside his chamber doors. He lifts his head, noticing the light that streams past maroon curtains. The darkness of the night is long gone, replaced with bursts of eerily ironic sunshine. 

“Arthur are you in there?”

No one calls him by his first name anymore. Only Merlin. Only Merlin is that insolent...that stupid... _that traitorous._

“I’m coming in, okay?”

He attempts to protest, to threaten them for addressing him so casually; but it's no use. His voice is dry and hoarse...no sound can form. 

“Oh, dear...”

The king slowly looks up to see who dares to disturb him, the darkest part of him hoping it's the familiar brunette hair that always greeted him in the mornings. And _it is_ brunette, but longer and lighter, belonging to a woman. It’s not what he wants. _In fact, he doesn’t know what he wants._ A whole night spent sitting on the floor and he had made zero conclusions. 

Guinevere kneels down beside him, lifting a cup to his cracked lips, “Drink.” 

He complies, he has no reason not to.

“Arthur,” She begins with a whisper, gently cradling his torn hands, “Let's get you to Gauis.”

“No.” He manages to rasp.

“Should I ask him to come here?”

“No.”

“But-”

“Did you know?” There was no point in easing into the conversation or waiting. He had to know who else had betrayed him. Better now than later. 

Her lips immediately press into a thin line, eyes flicking downwards, “I...had my suspicions.”

“And you never told me.”

“It wasn’t my place to do so.”

“ **Yes** , it was," Arthur croaks, "He’s a traitor. He could have-”

“No, he’s not." Gwen interrupts tersely, "He's _Merlin_ , he doesn’t have a traitorous bone in his body.”

Arthur blinks up tiredly, no fight remaining as he watches her. He couldn’t muster the energy to yell if he wanted to. “Why are you here Guinevere? I want to be alone.”

She tenses, shaking her dismissively, “I tried to give you time, but it’s mid-day and the council is asking for their king. You can’t just sit here forever.”

“Tell them I’m thinking.” He wasn't. Thinking was the last thing he wanted to do. 

"You’re only torturing yourself. I’m going to bring you breakfast and then I’ll try to treat your wounds, but if they’re too deep I’m going to bring Gaius.”

He stares at her for a minute, watching as she turns, rising from the floor and flattening her skirt. 

“Have you talked to him?” Arthur sounds empty to his own ears. He's not entirely sure why he's asking.

Guinevere pauses, not turning to face him as she replies, “He left me a letter, apologizing and saying goodbye. If I had gotten to see him last night I would have told him he didn’t owe me an apology, not after everything he’s done for me. But, I didn’t...so I guess he’ll never know, I just hope he knows I don’t hate him. I could never hate him.”

Arthur envies her. Envies her heart and her ability to love unconditionally. But then again she doesn't understand. She hadn't loved Merlin as he had. It wasn't she, Merlin had betrayed. 

“He’s left Camelot?” He questions, the hollow feeling within only intensifying. 

“Yes.”

 _Oh_. He's empty, everything is empty, but he still nods as if pleased, turning away as he responds, “Good.”

He can hear her anger in the immediate tension the room fills with. 

“I’ll return with your meal, _sire_.” The bitterness in her voice is unmistakable and he knows it’s not towards Merlin...it’s towards him. 

The large doors slam shut as she leaves. 

* * *

Gaius has all but disappeared from sight, Lancelot remains quiet unless spoken to, Gwen attempts to hide her distaste for him while she serves, no more endearing terms or concern for his well-being. The servants in the halls shoot him dirty looks when they assume he isn’t looking and the knights laugh less and fight harder. 

Then there's Gwaine. The king knew it would happen, in fact, he had only been waiting. The knight storms into the royal chambers the moment he hears the news, room rattling at his thunderous entrance, “Arthur, are you _fucking_ kidding me?”

Arthur barely glances from his reports, he had been expecting worse _, maybe a sword to the throat._

“Tread lightly, I _am_ your king.”

“You are no king of mine.” Gwaine spits, slamming a hand onto his table, forcing Arthur's gaze to find his.

“Do you wish to be thrown into the dungeons?”

"You banished him like he’s some-”

“The traitor left on his own account, Sir Gwaine.”

“Because you threatened him, you piece of-”

Arthur interrupts again, ensuring he remains as calm as possible, noble and royal. "That _boy_ should feel blessed that he was allowed to leave without burning. I was gracious with my actions.”

“His name is Merlin," Gwaine bellows,"Or have you let that crown get to your head? Merlin, the man that’s thrown himself in front of monsters for you. Merlin that’s served you for the past four years. What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?"

“Your _Merlin_ is a traitor of Camelot. A sorcerer.”

Gwaine scoffs, his disbelief burning into Arthur's skin. “He has protected this kingdom far better than you ever have. You won’t survive without him. He is the reason you’re alive today. He is the _reason_ you’re king and you don’t even care. Merlin was completely wrong about you and to think I thought that maybe he was right, that maybe there was finally a king worth fighting for. How idiotic of me.”

“If you wish to remain a knight, let alone a citizen you’ll shut your mouth and leave my chambers.”

“I can’t believe he chose _you_.” The knight grits bitterly.

“He _chose_ to betray me.” Arthur returns, forcing his anger down. He would not give Gwaine that pleasure, he couldn't. 

“ _No_. He chose to love you! To stay by your side when you didn’t deserve it. Even when you treated him like a damn slave. You’ve never deserved his affection or loyalty. Not when there are people that actually care about him.”

“People like yourself?" The king laughs humorlessly, eyes hard and set on the other, "People that want to fuck him, you mean?”

His knight's advances towards his servant had never been well hidden. 

Gwaine sneers, fist-clenching tightly at his sides and Arthur knows he’s trying to prevent himself from striking. 

“I have no reason to stay in this kingdom any longer. I stayed for him, not for the likes of you.”

“Then leave Gwaine, return to being a drunkard, join Morgana. I don’t care. Just don’t _ever_ step foot into my kingdom again. Consider yourself banished.”

“Thank the gods, I would hate to continue being called a knight of yours...a knight of a _dead_ kingdom. You’re a fool Pendragon and when you realize that you've made the biggest mistake of your life, you better not try and win him back, because he’ll be _mine_ and I won’t let him go like you have.” 

The force the man uses to slam the door shakes the entire room. 

Arthur glares after him for a second longer before he returns to his reading. 

  
  
Gwaine had left four months ago and despite the knights insisting he would return...He never did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AYO this chapter is short but like my favorite chapter ever?? Idk why but I really hope you guys like it. Anyways I probably won't update till the weekend because the amount of work I have to do is literally sinful.
> 
> LMK UR THOUGHTS. NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE LONGER PROMISE <33
> 
> Tell me why I'm lowkey team Gwaine. jk don't come for me. but like...?????
> 
> edit**  
> Ya'll boutta make me act up and make this a Gwaine x Merlin fanfic even though this is literally a prequel to Merthur being married LMFAOO


	3. Chapter 3

It’s six months after Merlin’s leave when Arthur finally works up the courage to visit Gaius. The king had acquired numerous cuts, bruises, and sleepless nights but refused to visit the physician nevertheless. Pride, anger, or fear...he wasn’t sure which was keeping him from entering the quarters. 

_Probably all._

They had passed each other on occasion, exchanging brief formalities, but the physician had stopped attending council meetings the minute his apprentice left Camelot and Arthur never questioned it. He knew the older man could hardly look at him without letting his gaze betray his heart and the blond wasn’t sure he would fare much better. 

Gaius _had_ to have known about Merlin’s magic. _There was no way he hadn’t._ It seemed like everyone had known, one way or another. _Everyone but him..._

His hand hovers above the physician's door. An internal debate as he breathes deeply. 

The door swings open the second his hand lowers. Two bright smiles instantly dim the second they realize who is before them.

“Your Majesty,” Elyan salutes with a nod. 

“Sire,” Gwen bows, voice emotionless and dull. 

“Guinevere, Sir Elyan.” Arthur greets, attempting a smile of his own. 

“We were just leaving.” 

“Oh, you don’t have-”

The maiden pushes past him without another glance, her brother tensing, with an apologetic glance. “I apologize on her behalf. I believe she’s feeling unwell. She means no disrespect, I can assure you.”

 _It’s a lie,_ but Arthur’s used to it. She's avoided him like a plague for 6 months. 

“Very well. Do tell her she is relieved of her duties for the day.”

“That is very considerate thank you, your majesty.” With one last curt nod, Elyan follows in the direction of his sister. 

Arthur briefly reminiscing when they had all been friends. Laughing, drinking, joking with one another. _Ages ago... Before Merlin left._

“What can I help you with, my lord?”

He starts at the sudden voice, a reminder of why he was there in the first place, “Hello...”

Gauis peers curiously through thick lenses. “Are you injured?”

“No-”

“Is someone else injured?”

“No-”

“Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“No..." Arthur stammers, "Well yes, but-”

“Have you finally come to speak to me then?”

The king sighs, nodding as he steps further into the room.“If you’re willing, I would like to speak to you indeed.”

“I would hardly deny the king a conversation,” Gauis says, turning to search through a mound of papers.

“Do you wish to deny it? If you are angry with me, I understand Gauis."

The physician remains quiet until he's found the object of his search, turning to Arthur with a huff, “I’m not angry with you, my lord. I have no right to be angry with you.”

“But he’s _gone._ " Arthur returns pointedly. 

“He made that decision himself.”

“Because I threatened him.”

Gauis raises a questioning brow, “And do you regret that?”

“No...yes...I’m not sure." Arthur shakes his head. Hating the confusion in his own brain. "He betrayed m- Camelot.”

There’s a beat of silence before the older man speaks again, “Then, what is it you wish to speak of, sire?”

“I’d like to know the truth, if there is any truth to be told.”

“Concerning?”

 _This is it._ This is what Arthur has spent the last month contemplating. He had debated if he was ready to hear...to know more about the betrayal...about the man he had loved. _That he still loved?_ Gods, he hadn’t let his brain take him that far. 

_One problem at a time._

Nerves rack him as he takes a seat across from the physician, feigning confidence as he speaks. 

“Merlin. Tell me everything you know about Merlin.”

* * *

Days turn into weeks, eventually turning into months. 12 months since Merlin had left _. A year._

The silence is eerie. Sightings of sorcerers are reported...but no Morgana. In fact, Morgana hadn’t been seen or heard from in far too long. He'd sent trackers, hunters, the best possible but she had disappeared into the unknown. 

The thought scared Arthur more than he was willing to admit. 

_His sister was planning._ This time he knew she’d have no mercy.

_She wanted blood and she wanted the throne._

* * *

He visits Gaius whenever he’s capable and they talk for hours on end. 

For once, Arthur listens. He listens and learns, and the battles he had thought he experienced are suddenly completely different. There were no coincidences or sudden bursts of strength. _No_...instead it had been his idiot manservant all along.

Some days he leaves the physician's quarters angry beyond comparison, his pride is bruised and the amount of treason that has taken place in his kingdom makes his skin crawl. Other days he’s full of awe from the stories Gauis recounts, he tries his best to mask it with nonchalance. And then...there are the rare occasions where he barely makes it to his chambers before hot tears fall. 

He’s torn. He wants it to be simple, he wants to either hate magic or accept it. He wants to either hate Merlin or love him...

But he can’t. 

* * *

It’s a quiet night when Arthur decides to ask the question that has tortured him for weeks. He had avoided asking at all costs. He hadn't want to seem malicious or desperate...but there he was asking.

“How...is he?”

An unreadable expression falls over his older companion, who continues to tinker with a strange concoction. “I don’t know.”

Arthur's eyes widen in surprise, “He hasn’t written? I assumed that you kept in touch...or...something.”

“It’s been months. At first, he sent letters but 4 months ago they suddenly stopped."

Arthur’s stomach churns at the possibilities. “Is he in Ealdor?”

“No, he refused to go to his mother in fear that she’d be in danger.”

A burst of guilt punches him. _Had he thought Arthur would punish her?_

“Do...you know where he could be?”

“In the last letter he said he had finally found the Druid camp. Since they’re nomads it was quite difficult, but I have no idea if he was allowed to stay."

“But...he’s _Emrys._ How could they possibly deny him?”

Merlin's magical identity has been another discovery that made his anger and awe swell simultaneously. His manservant just so happened to be the strongest sorcerer on the Earth. Arthur had sulked at the revelation, both embarrassed and confused on why such a powerful man remained by his side for so long. None of Gauis's explanation ever made complete sense to him. He figured that maybe Merlin was just a better man than him.

“Merlin was associated with you for many years, openly protecting both you and Camelot. I fear that he wouldn’t be trusted by the Druids. They’re a welcoming group but they don’t take kindly to-”

“To me." Arthur completes with a great sigh, "Because I’m a Pendragon. I wish I could say I blamed them.”

They fall into silence before Gauis lowers his glasses, watching him with an interest that makes the king squirm, “Arthur? Has your opinion on magic possibly changed? You sound...different."

It had. Of course, it had. The only reason he was alive was because of magic. He was born of magic, kept alive by magic, made king because of magic. How could he oppose something that had proven itself more good then bad over and over again? 

“I have." Arthur nods, watching the beam in Gauis's face. It reminds him so much of Merlin it aches.

"It’s taken me quite a while hasn’t it? I do apologize for that, I must admit there is a lot I remain unsure of. A lot more questions I have...about sorcery...about him. Yet, having heard about the druids, about the lies and abuse my father brought upon this land. I know change **must** be made. I plan to create a new council, of people who will do what’s best for Camelot, who will care for the greater good. It won’t be easy and I’m sure the current council will be furious, but it is time for change...I pray you agree Gauis?”

The smile on the older man brings upon a heap of confidence. 

“it would be an honor if you would be a part of the new council. I trust you to tell me the truth, to never hold back as you stand by my side." 

“It would be my pleasure, sire. Only until you find the right replacement.”

The king scrunches his face in confusion. 

“I am an old man Arthur. I will stand by you forever but I can not remain in the council permanently. But, worry not I do believe there is someone more _suitable_ for the position...someone very wise... _very powerful."_

Arthur stares blankly, the insinuation making his heart thud dangerously, “But..."

“Is it wrong to assume you plan on going to find him?” Gauis questions. 

“I-well... **No.** You are not wrong. I _will_ go and find Merlin, once the new council is formed and magic is no longer outlawed. Camelot will be the safe haven he and other magic users alike deserve. Only then shall I bring him home. I owe him my life Gauis, everything I have now is possible because of him. I pray that he can find it within himself to forgive me.”

Gauis smiles, pride in his set gaze, “I am pleased to hear your decision and I'm certain Merlin will be elated as well. Now, excuse me if I’m mistaken but it appears that we have a council to build?"

Arthur's determination is the strongest it’s been in months. 

“Absolutely.”

* * *

It’s the first time in a year that Gwen looks him in the eyes. Lancelot stands beside her, hand wrapped protectively around hers, shock obvious in his stare. 

“Of all the nobles in Camelot, why me? Lancelot’s a knight, but I’m only a-”

“You’re a valued member of the castle Guinevere. I trust that you’ll be forward. You both know the people of the town better than I and you understand their needs. That’s necessary for a successful kingdom.”

The maiden blinks at him as if he’s gone absolutely mad, “Do you even understand what you’re asking me?” She asks incredulously. 

“Guinevere." Lancelot gently chastises. 

“Yes." Arthur nods, "I am asking for the two of you to join the new council. You are free to decline but I do believe you would both be of great help. It would be an honor if you decide to so."

The king is only met with two blank stares, shaking his head as he turns with a sigh, "I will give you both time to make your decisions.”

“ **I’ll do it.”**

Arthur attempts not to gape at the woman, Lancelot's eyes widening in surprise as he looks at his lover. Arthur had hoped she agreed, but he had been more than prepared for denial. They had hardly held a decent conversation in the past months and speaking to her was a feat in it's own 

“Oh...well that’s wonderful Gwen, thank-”

“But I have conditions," She continues, voice strong and determined, "I’ll only do it if you follow them.” 

“What?" Arthur challenges, shocked at the audacity of the maiden.

Lancelot pales, cautiously pulling his lover closer. 

“Bring Merlin back” Guinevere continues, escaping the knight’s grip to step forward. “He belongs here, Arthur. After everything he’s done for us, he shouldn’t have ever had to hide who he was. We owe him this at least. I mean _you_ owe him a lot more and a million apologies but for now, just bring him back. This is his home and if you disagree then you-”

“I agree.” 

“-can banish me for all I care, because that makes you a terrible, unjust...wait-" She startles, staring at him in awe, "Did you just agree?”

“Yes Guinevere," He sighs. 

“Really?”

Lancelot gapes at them, watching in utter confusion. 

“You’re right," he continues, "Merlin should have never felt like he didn’t belong here. I owe him my life and I hope that he’ll agree to return. He deserves...he deserves a lot.” 

The couple stares at him, pleased smiles gracing them beautifully. 

“Thank the gods!” Guinevere throws herself into his stiff arms, tugging far too tightly for comfort. 

Arthur is almost certain this is another act of treason as he struggles to breathe through her grip. 

“I was so tired of ignoring you, but you were being such an idiot. When can we go get him?!”

Suddenly Arthur's consumed by images of sparkling blue eyes, annoying morning wake-ups, long lanky limbs, and soft pale skin. It all comes back to him like an erratic vision. Everything he had loved about Merlin. Everything he had admired and hated...It was all still there. Packed firmly into his heart. He loved the brunette just as he had the day he had intended to tell him so. _Maybe he even loved him more now._

"I planned on waiting until the ban on sorcery was lifted.”

Gwen waves her hand dismissively. "Or you two can write the laws together. Why don't you bring him home first? We want to see him...and I’m sure there are lots of conversations that need to be had.”

Gwaine’s parting words decide to haunt him at that moment. _Claiming he’d have Merlin. Forbidding Arthur from going after the brunette..._ _Were they traveling together? Were they-_

The idea sends a violent shudder through him. Gwaine had always been touchy towards the brunette. He had left Camelot and his knightship for Merlin. He obviously cared for the sorcerer...possibly even loved.

Would Merlin return those sentiments? Had Merlin already forgotten of Arthur?

_There was no time to waste. To hell with waiting._

“Lancelot, would you care to accompany me on the search?”

The knight nods eagerly. “Of course, sire.”

Guinevere squeezes them both joyfully.

“Then we shall leave at the break of dawn." Arthur promises, the maiden’s squeals earning them several strange stares. 

“Merlin’s coming home!”

“Yes, he is.” And he laughs, it’s soft but real and gods...it feels great. 

* * *

He spends the night pacing through his room, anticipating a million different scenarios. 

The snarky comments he could make...or the instant apology he could offer. 

The options were frustratingly endless. But as he lies in bed the painful pressure in his chest is overcome by the want that had been tactfully hidden away for months.

Arthur falls asleep with a smile gracing his face. 

He dreams of Merlin. 


	4. Chapter 4

They search for weeks before Guinevere approaches him. He knows what she's going to say before she has the chance to speak. The sorrow in her eyes is all the sign he needs and he turns away in favor of staring out the window and into the bustling courtyard. "I know you’re trying," She begins softly, "But it’s no longer safe to be out blindly searching. There have been more reports and we have no idea where Morgana and her men are. I think it would be best if we resume this search after the war has passed.”

Arthur knew it was coming...knew someone would eventually ask him to give up, but he finds himself growing angry regardless. The thought of abandoning Merlin is torturous, it keeps him up...every damn day. “How can you say that? What if he’s in danger? What if Morgana has him? How can we just stop looking now?"

“Arthur...Merlin isn’t weak and if Gwaine is accompanying him then-”

“Then what? He’d be the first to get them both killed.”

“That’s not true. He’d die fighting for Mer-”

“As would I!” Arthur exclaims, slamming a fist into the table he leans against. 

Gwen's face melts, a sadness as she looks at him. _He doesn’t need sympathy he needs to find Merlin._

“You asked me to be apart of the council because you knew I’d be honest with you. It’s been 3 months of searching and we haven’t the faintest clue where to look next. Merlin can protect himself, but we need to worry about protecting us. Right now we have no idea when the next attack will be...war is near Arthur.”

Arthur runs his hands down his face, cursing under his breath, "But...why wouldn’t he- he’s supposed to-” he trails off tiredly, a loss for words. 

“We all want to bring him home and I know that I asked you for this. But, it’s become too dangerous, we can’t bring him back if we’re dead.” 

“Fine," he snaps, far too exhausted to feel guilty for his tone, "Today’s search will be the last for the time being.” 

Her hand squeezes his shoulder in an attempt at reassurance. It doesn't work. “We’ll find him, Arthur.”

But what if they don't? What if Merlin was long gone? What if Merlin was happy without him? It makes him coil in disgust...he's being selfish, he knows that. But he can't find the heart to care. 

“Call for a council meeting, we will begin to prepare for Morgana.”

“Of course."

Arthur berries his face into his hands to prevent himself from lashing out on the new vases. 

* * *

“A young knight was found hanging from a tree at the border.”

“Self-inflicted?” Arthur asks. 

“No. The message was clear, the word _war_ was written in his blood.”

“Morgana?”

“It appears so.”

“Arrange a proper burial for the boy.”

“Yes, sire.”

“Morgana's cruelty will no longer be ignored. She has declared war, so we are now in a state of war.”

“What would you like me to do?” 

“Ensure the borders are secure. Inform the citizens. There will be surveillance at all times and tell my men to prepare their best swords.”

“Yes, sire.”

Arthur leans his head against the table, waving Leon away without looking, “Leave me be.”

“Of course, your majesty.”

He breaks the new vases the moment the door closes. 

* * *

“Gaius...we need him. _I need him_.”

“I have tried to contact him but there has been no response. Not even a tracking spell has been able to locate him.”

“Is he alive?” Arthur asks, nerves crawling at the uncertainty on the physician's face. 

“I’m not sure.”

“ _Fuck,_ _I can’t_ do this.”

“Your maj -- Arthur you haven't a choice.”

“I wasn’t ready to become king, not without _him_.”

“Yes, you were. This is what you were born for. Camelot needs you.” 

“How can I send my men out there knowing they’ll die? Knowing that we’re fighting a useless battle?”

“Because they’ve put their faith in you. They would rather die beside you than live with Morgana as their queen. _I_ would rather die Arthur, we’ll stay by your side.”

The king clenches his fist to hide the tremble in his hands, “Three more knights have died, all young men. They had futures, families...and now they’re dead.”

“Then honor their memory. Fight for them.”

“We ride out tomorrow. If-if Morgana wins then please Gaius-”

“Do not discuss such a thing.”

“Gaius-”

“ _No_. You are my king. I would never give in to her reign.”

“You’re stubborn...just like him."

“Yes well, his mannerisms always did tend to rub off on others.”

* * *

“Today we fight in honor of the brave men we have lost. Today we fight for freedom. Camelot has had its faults. It was ingrained in my father’s mind that magic was cruel, that sorcerers deserved execution. Our citizens have struggled because of his actions and it has taken me a long time to realize that it was he who was wrong. Our people are what make this kingdom beautiful. Magic is not our enemy. Our enemy is the evil and cruelty of monsters willing to kill those who are innocent. I pray I can lead you all to victory, I pray that I will see all your faces when this is over. But I know the realities of war...and I will not be angered if this is a war that you feel that you can not fight. If you wish to leave...I encourage you to do so now-”

Arthur isn't sure if he's pained or proud when not a single knight moves. 

“-Very well then it appears we all agree. We will fight until the end. Until we are victorious. No matter the outcome we are men today. We are all warriors. Draw your swords and prepare.”

“For Camelot!”

"For Camelot!" They echo.

* * *

Morgana isn’t leading the enemy. At least it doesn't appear she is. A tall, lumbering man stands in front of the opposing army. 

“I am Lord Theron.” His voice carries across the field, reaching Camelot’s men. “Surrender your kingdom and we will show you mercy. Do you accept?”

He feels like an indignant child as he forces his voice out, strong and loud. Sounding much more confident, than he actually is. "I am King Arthur Pendragon. Is it true you wish to soil Camelot, destroy its people, and kill those you don’t agree with?”

“As you already do in your filthy kingdom! I plan on cleansing the land of those who refuse to learn magic. Of the likes of you, who have destroyed my kind.”

“You are mistaken, that was my father’s laws. No sorcerer has faced death since I have reigned. Magic will have its place in Camelot once more, but it will be used for good, not for selfish gains or wealth."

“HA! A Pendragon believes he can lecture me about the use of magic! Have you chosen war, fool?”

“We will **not** give you Camelot.”

“Then you will die _little boy_.”

* * *

It’s a war like no other. He wonders if it will be remembered in the centuries to come. The sounds of screams, clanging metal, and curses overcome his own thoughts. Arthur wants to hold on to the sliver hope that they’ll win, that sheer number will overpower strength. 

But as he looks around _he knows._

Knights drop around him, their blood painting his face as he continues slashing and dodging his own opponents. A dagger finds its way into his shoulder and he’s sure that without the adrenaline he’d have been unable to fight, but there is no time for pain as he rips the weapon out and stabs into an enemy’s neck. 

The cries of his fallen men reignite the fire within him that threatens to die.

 _For Camelot,_ he repeats religiously. _For the knights that died. For_ _the citizens who suffered._ _For Merlin..._ _Because gods, he wants to see Merlin again._ _He wants to apologize for all his mistakes, apologize for not admitting how he felt, for never telling the younger man how beautiful he was, how much he wanted to hold him...kiss him._ _Maybe just maybe they can be happy together._ _Despite all the odds, despite all the danger and obstacles..._

He hopes, he prays, he fights harder. 

* * *

It’s never-ending. He’s been stabbed another time, an unfortunate puncture in his abdomen. His limbs are heavy and his grip on Excalibur has loosened. Arthur fights beside Lancelot, occasionally glancing over at the man who struggles through his own fatigue. The sight makes him want to scream. He wants to scream and curse because the man shouldn’t die. _Not when he has Guinevere back home...not when he has a life ahead of him._

It serves as a temporary burst of power, but he doubts it’ll last.

“ _Everyone down!_ ”

Neither knight can recognize the voice but they heed the directions without question. They’re not sure why, but the sudden will is too compelling to ignore, as if a force drags them down. Arthur has no control over his body as he greets the ground, spotting the remaining knights mimicking their actions, bodies pressed to the field. Before he can question their actions he's halted, an explosion audibly and visually impairing him.

Arthur gasps, body trembling as he attempts to stand, but the shaking of his legs drags him back down.

“Lancelot?!” He can’t hear his own voice, clawing desperately at his ears. He snatches his hands backs at contact with warm liquid dripping down his face. Vision isn’t necessary to know that it's blood. _So much blood_

“Stay down!” Another rough voice is shouting. 

_Is it directed towards him?_ _Had they lost?_

He’s in a pathetic blind panic as he searches for Excalibur. This can't be it. This can't be the end. 

His next attempt at standing is disrupted by a harsh grip pushing him back to his knees. Words are being spoken no doubt, yet, the ringing in his ears refuses to halt, a horrible sound blocking a crucial ability. 

“I can’t hear," he gasps, reaching out desperately.

A mouth is suddenly pressed against his ear, voice hardly audible through the buzz. “I said -- you fucking idiot! --is taking care of it!” 

Arthur curses at the uselessness of his ears, clutching angrily at his pounding head.

“I told him to let you rot!” The voice shouts again, slightly clearer.

 _What was this person talking about?_ _What was happening?_ _Who was even yelling at him?_ _Why did the voice sound so familiar?_

“But that's how -- you’re fucking lucky, you hear-=”

The grip on his shoulder disappears just in time for the ringing to dim enough that he can think. Arthur rubs painfully at his blinded eyes, forcing tears that work to clear his vision.

“Arthur?!” 

Arthur makes out the sight of a grounded Lancelot, moving in a similar panic, “Lancelot, stay down!”

“What’s happening?” 

“I don’t know, can you see?”

“Hardly! There was an explosion?”

“I believe so. Rub your eyes, the moisture will clear your vision. Stay down, I’m going to try and see what happened.”

“No! Wait for me, I’ll accompany you!”

“You will stay-”

“Shut up Arthur!" Lancelot shouts, "Don’t be stubborn for once in your damn life! I'm with you until the end, do you understand?”

The king can only grunt his appreciation, grabbing the other man's arm as he hauls him up. They use each other's bodies to stay upright. Their staggers an embarrassing feat as they struggle over the slain bodies of enemies and friends alike. 

“Arthur! Lancelot!”

Elyan and Percival are a sight of relief as they make their way towards the wounded pair, seemingly in much better shape than them both. 

“What’s happened?” Arthur demands, gaping at the field devoid of battle

Elyan’s pointed finger is all the answer he needs. A distance away three figures face Theron’s remaining men. Arthur breaks from Lancelot's grip to move forward, eyes squinting for a better view.

“Sire, wait!” Percival calls.

He ignores his knights, in favor of more pitiful staggers, heart hammering with every step. _No. It can’t be._

The three figures become clearer as he nears. 

_No. No. No. No._

Two men and one woman make up the trio. And then he’s close enough to make out faces and it takes every ounce of his remaining strength to not collapse. Cascading black hair is unmistakenly Morgana, and the large man protectively hovering hasn’t changed in appearance besides the length of his hair. Arthur has no doubt he's the owner of the voice who had been attempting to yell at him.

Of course, Gwaine would take the opportunity to yell at him. 

The last man stands in front of the other two. Tall, confident, strong. 

And although he can’t see the face, Morgana's cold voice confirms what he’s not sure is a nightmare or a dream. 

“Bow to Lord Emrys, or die like the rest of your men.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GIMME UR THOUGHTS. I LIKE THIS CHAPTER. 
> 
> And I really liked having some of the scenes only being dialogue, did we like? Or was it too much omitted? AHH ANYWAYS HAVE A GOOD DAY OFF TMRW <333
> 
> BAIIII also catch me writing a Leopika fic soon 0: IM SO EXCITED FOR IT


	5. Chapter 5

“M-Merlin?” 

A strong hand drags him back and down to the ground before he can repeat his shaky call. 

“Gwaine said we have to stay out of their way.” Elyan’s voice is harsh and hushed as he speaks but Arthur can't seem to comprehend, eyes trained straight ahead. The number of questions he has is beyond his own comprehension. _What the hell was going on?_ _Why was Morgana with them?_ _Why was she calling Merlin a lord?_

From the new, albeit uncomfortable angle Arthur can see Merlin's face. The king's eyes are still blurry around the edges and he's nowhere as close as he wants to be, but he's certain it's Merlin. Arthur hasn't a doubt in the world, with those ears and shining eyes...how could it not be? 

Theron steps forward, instantly met with Gwaine's protective sneer.

“We’ve already won." Theron sneers, ignoring the ex-knight in favor of glaring at Morgana, "Can't you see that? Or are you still so foolishly blinded? Still blindly follow this pathetic excuse of a sorcerer?" he gestures at Merlin, shaking his head in disappointment. "I am going to enjoy killing you Morgana, I always have enjoyed ridding the earth of traitors."

“You’ve won _nothing_." Morgana grits, annoyance echoing in her voice, "I will not sit here and argue with you, take your men far away and Emrys will spare you."

Theron throws his head back, a bellowing laugh so fierce it echoes through the field. “Emrys will spare me? Do you truly think I believe in stupid old fables claiming that this man is of any danger to me!? You're a foolish woman, just like those Druids who intend to trust you after you've killed so recklessly."

“Your demise will come from your lack of belief in the old religion. As for me, I am repenting and I will continue to do so as long as it takes.”

Lancelot gasps beside him, but Arthur keeps his eyes set, trying desperately to understand the fever dream occurring ahead of him. 

Theron delves into a fierce roar, the Earth below them trembling, “ _ **Fools!** _The lot of you are fools! You fight for the very humans who have cast you aside and murder your kind! Have you no pride?!"

“No,” And this time it’s Merlin who speaks, with a voice so strong and confident Arthur gapes. “You’re mistaken Theron. We aren’t fighting for mortals, we’re fighting for morality. How would killing innocent people bring back those we’ve lost?”

“They will feel our pain! They will bow for us!”

“Don't make me kill you, Theron." Merlin sighs, a highly inappropriate yawn for the occasion escaping him.

“As if you could touch me you worthless scum.”

Gwaine stifles a laugh, “Emrys is being kind right now. I’d suggest you take his offer and leave.” 

“Quiet mortal! ” Theron thunders. 

The ex-knight gives him a pointed finger, with a roll of his eyes, “Yeah well, fuck you _mate._ ” 

Merlin sighs as if he’s in the most casual of situations, lifting an obsidian-colored sword to point at the enemy before him. “No more people need to die. Let us fight to the death. Prove to me you are stronger and Camelot is yours. Do you accept?”

Arthur gulps, fear building as both men step forward. Merlin seems foreign compared to the servant he once knew. 

“I accept Emrys. Let us be quick, I have a kingdom to conquer."

Both Morgana and Gwaine erupt in laughter, the opposing man shaking with rage. Arthur suspects Merlin rolls his eyes by the way Theron seethes. 

“Move,” Merlin demands to the other two, only returning his gaze to the enemy when they have distanced themselves, stopping several steps away from the king and his knights. 

Gwaine notices them instantly, shooting a dark glare Arthur's way as he sits, blatantly ignoring the bodies littering the floor. Arthur opens his mouth only for Lancelot’s hand to slap over it, muffling his crude words. “Don’t,” His knight whispers, “Let’s just observe. We don’t know what’s happening yet and we can’t fight them all.” 

“Begin Theron,” Merlin demands, drawing the attention of all. 

Arthur is torn between horror and awe as the larger man chants, a dark glow surrounding him. Yet, Merlin remains still, unamused with his sword held lazily in front of him.

Every instinct in the king tells him to get up and fight alongside the brunette. To help. But he's tied down by his wounds, left only to watch and pray. 

And pray he does, for the scene before and can only be described as a depiction of hell itself.

Theron roars as serpents emerge from the battleground, glowing red and angry, awaiting their master's command. The entire field falls dark as the sun is extinguished by gray clouds. The day's previous warmth long gone as the wind strengthens in tune with the enemy's motion. 

Arthur hasn't the chance to blink before the creatures are racing towards Merlin at an inhumane speed.

"Merl-" The king's startled shout dies the moment the brunette swings his sword. 

_That’s not Merlin. Not at all._

The warlock moves with a fluidity of no known swordsmen. His obsidian weapon slashing and tearing through anything that closes in, eyes burning gold as he fights.

The king’s wide eyes are glued to the battle as Gwaine lets out an obnoxious hoot. “Atta boy Merls!”

Arthur assumes Morgana slaps his head at the former knight's grunt. “Shut up Gwaine.” 

“Hey, I’m just being supportive.” 

“Be supportive quietly.” 

“You are so boring.”

Merlin continues pushing forward, closer to the enemy with each step, seemingly unaffected by his efforts. Chants of his own overpower his evidently desperate opponent. In a last attempt, Theron splays his hands out protectively, a larger blast lashing out towards Merlin. But Emrys isn’t the strongest being on Earth for no reason, he deflects the attack with an effortless swing of his sword, reaching Theron's with a foreign glint to his eye.

"Retreat," Merlin insists, weapon pressed firmly against the enemy's neck. 

The world falls silent waiting for a response, a heart-pounding affair as long seconds pass. 

"Never," Theron sneers, eyes burning as he moves back, raising his own sword threateningly.

It's no match for Merlin, Arthur learns. For the king has never seen a better fighter in his life, Theron is disarmed and defeated in five striking moves. 

Merlin's black sword sticks proudly through the man's chest, whose eyes are wide in shock. The old servant's grip is unwavering as serpents disintegrate into the ground, magic visibly draining from his as Theron's breath becomes frantic, blood spilling rapidly upon the ground beneath him.

There are no taunts or final words from Merlin as the enemy breathes his last breath, allowing the man to die with an honor Arthur knows he doesn't deserve. It is by far the most noble thing he has ever witnessed. 

Merlin turns then to the remaining men, eyes glowing gold as he declares, “Stay if you wish to meet the same fate as your leader. If you wish to live, you’ll never step foot onto this land again. Better yet, you will never step foot into another village. I know all your faces, I will never forget. If I am to run into any of you again you will die."

Many of them stagger, starring with terror and defiance at the warlock. Unmoving until Merlin rips his sword from their deceased leader a portion of them turning to run, tripping over bodies in their hurry to flee the field. Those who haven't left, appear hesitant, still determined..until the brunette speaks, a dangerously quiet cock of his head. "Then you have chosen death?" 

They begin running before Merlin can lift a hand. 

Camelot’s knights are frozen, only watching at the victorious man stares upwards, unintelligible mumbling as clouds slowly sink from the sky. 

"Look at you go Merls! I've never seen a better swordsman in my life!" Gwaine is standing again, making his way towards the sorcerer who drops tiredly into his awaiting arms. 

“Can you still use your magic?" Morgana questions as she follows suit, grasping Merlin's face with both hands to inspect his narrowed eyes. 

“We still need to heal those who were injured, I should be able to manage.”

The sorceress shakes her head defiantly, “I’m not doing that. I provided the distraction today Emrys, that’s it.”

Merlin shoots her a stern glare, indifferent to her opinion, “You _are_ doing that. You’re meant to be repenting or have you forgotten your own promise?”

“He’s right Morgs." Gwaine grins, intent on annoying, "Get a move on it. Heal your favorite knights!"

“Shut up _mortal."_

“When will you sorcerers stop fucking calling me that?!”

“When you stop being _mortal_ Gwaine.”

“Then teach me some damn-”

“Gwaine!”

Percival had risen without any of the knight's notice. Smile bright as he makes his way towards the longer-haired man. “Ah, Percival!”

“Merlin!” 

Arthur watches wide-eyed and dizzy as Elyan follows suit to greet the trio. Only Lancelot remains beside him, as confused and shock as he. “Did we win?” The knight asks quietly. 

“I have no idea," Arthur returns. The aching in his head pounding harder.

“Emrys," Morgana calls, eyes searching over the field. "Let us return home, we have done what we intended. You have saved them..once again."

The three stare at one another, communicating silently before Merlin sighs, nodding from his place against Gwaine's chest. “Elyan, Percival thank you for your help. Send my regards to Gwen and Gaius. We must take our leave now.”

“Won't you at least come and say hello yourself?" 

Merlin frowns, shaking his hand kindly as he finally steps from the former knight's hold, clapping Elyan's shoulder in thanks. "You know we can not. Though you are always welcome to come-"

Arthur finally regains the movement in his limbs, standing shakily and stepping painful steps forward. His mind is askew and numb as he limps the short distance, nearly tripping over every pitiful obstacle.

Arthur is aching like never before, but he’s also never been so desperate to reach someone. To hold someone. He needs to- “M-Merlin." he chokes, hoping his voice carries. 

Surprised blue eyes meet with him with such an intensity he can't help but stumble, body giving in to the darkness that begs him to sleep. 

"Arth-"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE HERE, as some might be able to tell. I'm trying to practice writing fighting scenes but they're kind of hard because idk I've never been in a fucking middle-aged battle or whatevs. 
> 
> So like you guys can be honest and tell me if it's just ass and I should just be a smut writer for the rest of my life because honestly, I'm failing Chemistry, I have two essays to write and I haven't registered for next semester....soooo fml. 
> 
> Hope u enjoyed baddies.


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur drifts into consciousness, all too aware of the pressure filling his chest. An attempt at sitting upright proves disastrous as his wounds throb, a rightful reminder that he'd been stabbed multiple times. 

The king's grumbled curse draws attention from an unidentifiable person. Their calloused hand reaching forward to touch his forehead. “Ah, you’re finally awake.” 

Water is brought to his lips and received gratefully as he pries open crusted eyes. _There had been fighting. The explosion. And then-_

“Merlin?!” Arthur gasps, shooting up to search around the room. He's only met with the old physician pushing him back down, “You’re going to reopen your wounds,” Gauis snaps, “Stay still.”

“Is he here?” 

Nothing else matters. The pain is temporary. But Merlin...he has to see him...now

“Your majesty-”

“Gauis," Arthur demands, "Is he here?!” 

“Yes, but he’s-”

“Bring him to me.”

“I can not do that.” The physician sighs, exhaustion evident in the circles beneath his eyes. 

“And why not?” Arthur sneers, all too aware of how childish he sounds. 

“Merlin is recovering, he should not be disturbed.”

A burst of worry overcomes Arthur at the thought. _Had something happened after he'd fallen? How could his body have been so traitorous at such a time?_

“Was he injured?" 

“No," Gauis confirms, easing the fear in his chest, "After the battle, he alone brought the wounded home and nursed those in critical conditions. It took him a full day to do so and once he was done he could hardly stand.”

Arthur drags his hands through his hair, both endlessly grateful and annoyed that the warlock had done so much alone, “What about Gwaine and Morgana?” he inquires. 

“Merlin was alone when he arrived.”

The king tosses his head back into the pillows with a huff. “Fine then, if he can’t get up, then take me to him.”

“ _Arthur_ , you need to rest.”

“No, I don’t.” 

“If your wounds reopen, I can not ensure your wellbeing.”

"Gauis-"

”This is final, your majesty. Even I must stand my ground at this. You are blessed to be alive."

Arthur lets out a cursed groan as he sinks deeper into the sea of pillows surrounding him. “Then will you at least tell me what happened? I’m beyond confused Gauis. They called Merlin a lord, he fought with a sword, stood beside Morgana and they spoke as if they were friends. Why would he befriend an enemy of Camelot?”

“Sire, I know as much as you. Though I trust that Merlin would never side with someone who was trying to destroy Camelot. Whatever he’s done has led to our victory, that, I am sure of.” 

The lack of answers works to hurl his patience further, tone snappish as he speaks, “When can I see him? I _need_ to see him.”

Gaius gives him a pointed look, frustration painfully evident. “When you’re both better. Neither of you is ready for the conversation that’s to come.”

“But-”

“I need to check on the rest of the knights. You are to rest longer. If your pain worsens, call for me. Guinevere will bring your food soon, make sure you eat it _all."_

“But-”

The physician is across the room and out the door before Arthur can continue his questioning.

Sleep, he knows, is impossible in his current state, he's in pain, disoriented, and utterly lost.

 _T_ he questions he held were endless. Everything he had witnessed went against every narrative designed in his head. _Why was Morgana accompanying them?_ _Had Merlin been able to change her heart?_ _If so...how? Why?_

The king lifts a hand to rub his head, trying to ease the pounding his own thoughts create. 

“Arthur?”

“Guinevere.” He greets half-heartedly, as the maiden enter his chambers. 

“How are you feeling? Let me help you sit up so you can eat.”

He mumbles an acceptance as she carefully brings him upright, placing his food before him. Yet, the thought of eating makes him feel ill. His stomach is dreadfully empty, a clear threat that if he eats, his body will reject it all. Though it doesn't matter, he can't sit and recover while the man he'd spent months looking for is so close.

Arthur couldn't wait...that was a risk he wasn't willing to take. 

“Have you seen him yet?”

“Merlin?” Gwen questions, attempting to shovel food into his open mouth. 

He purses his lips with a glare. _Who else would he be talking about?_ “Yes, Merlin."

“Of course!" She beams brightly, "I just talked to him on the way-”

“You what?!" He interrupts loudly, ignoring the soup that spills as he moves. 

“I talked-”

“You mean to tell me he's awake?”

“Well he’s in the physician’s quarters but ye-”

Curse that wicked old man. Trying to keep me away.

“Help me stand.” 

“What? Arthur, you’re still healing. You can’t-”

“Guinevere =, I apologize for what I’m about to say, but if you don’t take me to him I’ll send you to the damn stocks.”

She appears more amused than horrified, a perched brow staring down at him, “Is that so?”

“No," he sighs. (Because really he wasn't that terrible) "I’d never send a lady to the stocks, but as your king _I am_ demanding you to take me to him.”

“He’s still resting Arthur. You should be as well.”

“Well, then we can rest together. Help me up.”

“Gauis is going to be upset."

"Gwen, I truly don't care. Just help me stand."

“Fine” She abruptly drags him to his feet, far less care with her actions than before. “But when you're caught, make it clear that I did not agree to this.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, testing his ability to walk with a few shaky steps, “Get me a cape, will you? I need to be disguised or Gauis might see me.”

Guinevere mutters under her breath as she wraps him in a dingy brown cloak, steadying him with an arm around his waist. “Do you think you can make it to his quarters?”

“Yes," he waves dismissively, "It’s simple.”

* * *

It is indeed **_not simple._ **

The cape does absolutely nothing to hide his identity, every passing servant bowing and greeting his limping form. It truly is a blow to his ego. The smallest of children could knock him down with a weak tap in his pathetic state. 

“Where is Gauis anyway?” He speaks only to get his mind off the intense discomfort walking brings. 

“There were too many men for his quarters so they set barracks near the training field to house them all.”

Arthur hums in acknowledgment, the familiar door in sight bringing upon a sudden shakiness to his hands. 

“Are you sure you’re ready?” She whispers as they hover before the entrance. 

_No. Not at all._

“I--what do I say to him?”

“What you need to say, Arthur. Be confident in yourself. I’m sure you’ve spent nights preparing for the day you two met again, just be honest.”

But he’s not confident... Not at all. H _ow can he be after everything he’s done to hurt the man who’s only ever protected him?_

“He didn’t even want to return. I heard him on the field, Gwen. Merlin hadn’t any intention of speaking to me. Do you think...he hates me now?”

“That’s a silly question, of course, he doesn’t hate you, Arthur.”

 _He's hardly sure of that._ The king leans his head against the door for a brief second, breathing deeply to steady his erratic heartbeat. “I hope you’re right.”

A curt nod and push of the door and he finds himself holding his breath, bracing for the impact of seeing the warlock.

“Oh...no.” Gwen’s gasps snap him from his daze.

“What is it?” 

“He was right here." She points at the empty makeshift bed lying in the middle of the room. "Leon is resting in his old room."

“Are you saying he’s left?!” He thunders.

“It...appears so. Gaius said he was insisting he had to go., but we thought he'd wait until he was all better.”

Arthur’s almost certain he’ll combust from the bout of physical and emotional pain, the intense feeling giving fuel to the selfish anger he had attempted to disguise. _The same anger that wondered why Merlin couldn’t have stayed the first time...couldn’t have trusted Arthur would have never hurt him._

“Damn it!" He shouts, sliding into a terribly uncomfortable wooden chair. "I just--I only wanted to-

“Arthur-”

“He could have said goodbye or at least told me he never wanted to see me again! But he's just run away again and I am left to wonder-”

“Arthur!" Gwen demands, forcing him to finally look at her. "By the gods, would you turn around?"

"What are you-" His gaze is faster than his mouth, the sight before him beating the remaining words away.

The brunette at the door is frozen and pale as he stares back with wide eyes. Arthur stands abruptly, unsure of what to do as he basks in the stunned silence, both mouths opening and closing in failed attempts at a greeting. No words are successfully spoken before a sudden push shoves the warlock further into the room.

“You idiot!” Gaius booms as he follows after, “I told you to stay in bed!”

The physician follows Merlin's unwavering gaze to the king, eyes widening angrily as he redirects his agitated shouts.“What are you doing here!?”

“I...uh…Merlin-” He lets out unintelligibly. 

His brain has completely lost all its function. Gauis could be beating him with a broom and he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to look away. Because the man before him is stunning. And Arthur thanks the gods that he’s finally able to admire his beauty, having missed a proper chance during the battle. 

His brunette hair is outrageously long and messy, dark circles prominent under his eyes. Foreign symbols painted on his skin peek from beneath his dark clothing, a bright contrast against his pale skin. Merlin looks taller and stronger. _Like a royal...a leader._

Arthur is positive he’s never seen someone so perfect. 

“Your highness," Merlin returns, as if in disbelieving awe, his eyes making the same movements as Arthur’s. Searching...Paying no mind to the two other people in the room.

“Both of you sit now!” Gauis interrupts, storming to his mounds of potions. 

Arthur cares little for the interruption as he shamelessly continues staring, dropping back into the wooden chair. Merlin blinks, shaking his head as if to break out of a trance, turning his gaze to the fuming physician. 

“You left your bed to steal bread from the kitchen?!” Gaius snarls, pointing at the loaf the warlock cradles to his chest. 

“Well, you told me not to use my magic and I was hungry.”

“You could have asked someone!”

“There was no one-”

“Shut up! And you!" He turns to Arthur, eyes dark and narrowed, "What is your excuse?” 

Arthur pales, shrugging carefully, “I am...uh…the king?” He attempts to blend into the chair as the glare intensifies. 

“Listen to me, both of you! I am not done treating the knights. You are going to stay here until I return, do you understand? You’re making my job harder! I am an old man and I **_can not_** be watching after two grown adults! Stay put!”

“Well since you’re asking so nicely," Merlin chirps with a cheeky grin that falters the instant Gauis looks at him. 

The physician storms out, new potion in hand as he slams the door shut. 

“I think he’s angry.” Guinevere chides thoughtfully. 

“Yes, it’s safe to say so, Gwen.”

“Well I-” She glances between them expectingly, “-am going to help him so you two should stay here.”

“Wha--Wait!” She’s out the door as quickly as the latter, ignoring Merlin's plea. 

The room falls quiet. Arthur's heart pounding excruciatingly loud. He takes a deep breath before he meets the Warlock's eyes, voice uncertain and soft, “Merl-” 

“Sire-”

“Oh, I’m sorry-”

“No, _I’m_ sorry, please you first.”

“No, I insist you first, my lord.”

“No, no please.”

Another long staring match begins before Merlin flushes pink, dropping his gaze to the bread he holds.“Uh well, how are you feeling?"

Arthur sucks in air, nodding silently, "I am well...and you?"

“Yes...I am fine."

 _Get yourself together Arthur._ _You are a king_. _This is the moment you’ve imagined for months._ “Merlin-" He begins softly. _"_ I believe we have a lot to talk about.” His uncertainty rings through the chambers, “If you’re willing.”

Merlin sits quietly, mouth busy peckishly biting at the loaf. Arthur’s almost unsure if he’s been heard before the warlock nods, hesitantly meeting his eyes, “Yes. I believe we do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bleh bleh its 5 in the morning. I have a research paper due bye


	7. Chapter 7

“Why was Morgana accompanying you?”

“Going straight to the questions, are we?

Arthur's face runs red, his eagerness dawning. “Sorry, I-”

“No," Merlin sighs, "It’s alright. I’m sure that was surprising for you...but I can assure you Morgana no longer stands against your reign. She wishes you nor Camelot any harm.”

“But how? Only a while ago she swore she’d have the throne.”

“Morgana felt... abandoned, she didn’t understand her powers for most of her life and when she finally did there wasn’t anyone there for her. She turned to the only thing she could find and that happened to be dark magic. I am...partially to blame. I should have been honest with her...should have told her that I too had-” Merlin stops midsentence to glance at Arthur and the king immediately understands, a pang of guilt filling him.

“You can speak freely of your magic.” 

The brunette gives a brief nod as he continues, “I should have told her I too had magic and that she wasn’t alone, but I foolishly feared the consequences. When I left the kingdom I knew I finally had a chance. I could dedicate my time to finding a way to help her. She was far from willing and I wish I could say it was originally her choice, but it was save her or battle to the death and I couldn't do that to her. I couldn’t hurt her, because I too knew what it was like to be alone.”

Arthur's guilt continues to build, the sorcerer refusing to meet his gaze. _Because you couldn’t trust me._

“Merlin-”

The brunette shakes his head dismissively as if he knows what Arthur wishes to say. 

“It took weeks for her to finally speak to me and even longer for her to listen. Eventually, I saw that hatred dim and we were able to properly talk. We spent months discussing everything and it was obvious her heart had changed. She was never evil...she was only hurt. Sometimes we do unforgivable things...but Morgana wants to better herself, she wants to repent for all who she has harmed.”

It sounds too perfect. Too unlike her. And nothing could make him forgot the moment Morgana had stood in front of him and vowed to destroy the kingdom...him along with it.

“And you trust her? You trust that she won’t betray you?”

“I do-” Merlin nods wistfully, "I was hesitant at first and she remained under strict watch, but every day she continues to prove herself. She shows that woman we once knew is still in there."

Arthur wishes once more that he could be like Gwen...wishes that he could have a big heart that forgives and trusts everyone...but he doesn't have that...far from it, in fact.“I can trust her.”

The king tenses, expecting a shout or anger but Merlin only nods understandingly. “And that’s alright. No one expects you to welcome her with open arms, least of all Morgana herself. She knows she has hurt many and she has no intention of returning to Camelot.”

He's not sure if it hurts. The thought of never seeing her again, but he knows it’s better than any of the alternatives. Better than have having to have fought her to the death in a bloody battle. “Thank you." He whispers truthfully," I may not trust her, but I didn’t want to fight my own sister.”

“I know." Merlin smiles sadly, " I didn’t want that either."

The silence returns as Arthur continues his internal debate. _Would it be of ill taste to ask about Gwaine? I_ _t seemed hardly appropriate with the numerous topics they needed to discuss..._ but the curiosity was burning...jealousy undoubtedly included. “Are you...” he falters, face burning with shame. He could not ask such a thing. It was not proper of a king. 

“You can ask me anything, sire," Merlin says carefully, looking him over curiously. 

“And you don’t have to address me so formally." _I want to hear you say my name. I want to pretend we're not strangers._

“Those are words I thought I’d never hear. You...always used to hate when I didn’t address you properly.” The brunette returns his gaze downwards, voice smaller than before and Arthur hates himself for it. Hates how much he’s hurt the beautiful man in front of him. _How cruel he’s been._ _The same warlock that boomed on the battlefield, seemed so reserved in front of him...so cautious._

He wishes he was better with his words. That he could articulate every emotion he’s feeling, but kings have never been taught that and he had never cared before...so he’s left with another unspoken apology, “Well...that was then. You’re a leader now, Lord Emrys was it?”

Merlin flushes, shaking his head dramatically, “I wouldn’t say that. The druids call me such, but I despise it. It hardly feels right.”

“It thinks it suits you. You’ve always been meant for more than serving. The title is fitting, I’m sure you make a fine leader. Much better than cleaning after me, yes?” It’s an attempt at a light-hearted joke but it’s delivered much more bitter than he intended.

Merlin is quick to notice, “I didn’t hate being your manservant Arthur...I hope you know that. I would have stayed with you...if it weren’t for...”

It doesn’t need to be spoken to hurt. _And fuck does it hurt...a lot._ He doesn’t want to be reminded of their time apart. Of the distance between them. _The distance he caused_.

“Yes," He sighs, "You always did say you’d stay by my side. I never understood why you were so adamant on that.”

Merlin’s face falters, “You’re the king of destiny.”

“Is that why you were so loyal?”

“That’s why I’ll _always_ be loyal to you.”

 _But that’s not what I want. I want you to_ **_want_** _to be with me...not because of destiny or religion or--_ “Do you still think I’ll make a great king? Even now?”

The brunette gapes, eyes full and wide, “Of course Arthur. Why would that have changed?”

“What I've done to you... Merlin, you have all the power needed to rule, to create a perfect kingdom. Haven't you ever thought of conquering the kingdom yourself?”

 _Shit, that was stupid._ The hurt on the warlock's face makes Arthur curse himself for his thoughtless questioning.

“Do you think that’s what I want?" Merlin whispers shakily, "Do you think that just because I have magic I would use it to harm you for power?”

“No--that’s not what I meant. I know you're not like that, I meant--”

“Do you?" The warlock grits, "Do you really know me? Because I'm not sure you do.”

Ah, there it is. The bitterness and hurt. Arthur’s impressed it’s taken so long to appear. He knows he’s deserved it from the very beginning of their conversation. But Merlin’s still sparing his feelings, still being far more kind than Arthur ever would have. 

“Merlin-" he tries, forcing courage from within, "What I said to you that night was-"

“We don’t have to do this now.”

“But I do.” Arthur shifts uncomfortably, the forgotten pain in his body too obvious to ignore, “I owe you an-”

Merlin notices his discomfort, standing suddenly, “Your wounds will reopen, you should lie down.” The king isn’t given a chance to reply before he’s being led to the makeshift bed and gently nudged in. 

“May I? I can try and take the pain away-” Merlin speaks softly, kneeling before the bed as his hands linger on the hem of his tunic.

Arthur silently nods, eyes never leaving the gentle hands that trace his wounds. The young warlock lets out a soft chant, the burning sensation suddenly numbed, tension melting away. Arthur allows himself to stare in undisguised awe as golden eyes fade into blue.

 _No one deserves this man._ _Especially not me,_ he concludes as he catches the unsure glance Merlin bestows upon him.“Is that better?”

“Much...thank you...for everything.”

He can’t help the disappointment that enters him when the brunette silently returns to the wooden chair. It falls quiet as Arthur lingers in his thoughts, a great desire for his questions to be answered. “It’s been two years. Would you have come back if not for the war?”

“Probably not.” 

_A clean stab to his heart._

“I searched for you.”

“To punish me?”

_A second stab._

“No...I needed you.”

It’s vulnerable. Much more vulnerable than he had intended.

“You would have found another way to win the war.”

“ _No_ Merlin. **I** needed you. I still d-”

“ _Lord Emrys!"_

Both men startle at the interruption, a young knight flailing into the room, eyes rimmed red with terror.

"What is it?" Merlin gapes before Arthur can reprimand the knight for his lack of knocking. 

“Sire, there is a man at the borders demanding to see you! He’s threatening to attack!”

“What?!” The warlock is up in an instant, obsidian sword appearing in his hands with a golden flash. 

“He grabbed me by the collar while I was on patrol! He-he said if you aren’t there in ten minutes he’d burn the castle down!”

Arthur begins to stand, his own concern rising at his frightened knight's words, stopped by a gentle squeeze to his shoulder, “Stay...please. You’re wounded. I can manage just fine.”

The king's rejection is interrupted as Merlin turns to the knight, eyes set and battle-ready. “Did he give you a name? What does he look like?”

“He’s tall and rugged. He’s a scary man, sire! He has long hair and he was talking about how much he hates the king. He said, and I quote ‘If that bloody king of yours touched a single hair on Emry’s pretty head I’ll skin him alive. We saved his life for fuck’s sake, he better not have been so stupid as to harm him! I’ll make him pay, that bloodied bastard mother fuc-’

Merlin slaps a hand over the terrified boy's mouth, eyes wide in his own horror, "Does this happen to be the man that was beside me on the field yesterday?” 

The young knight stands in silence, nodding eagerly as Merlin releases him, “Now that you mention it, I think so! His name was...Gwan?!”

“You poor boy. That’s Gwaine, he means you no harm. He’s simply ill-mannered. I failed to tell him that I was resting here and he must have thought the worst. Would you tell him that I’ll be right-” Merlin quickly reconsiders at the boy’s frightened face. “Actually inform an older knight, would you? Preferably Percival, and tell him to give Gwaine my message.”

“Yes, sire!” He nods at Arthur with a quick bow, “Your majesty.” 

The sorcerer lets out a stifled laugh as the knight disappears, meeting Arthur’s unamused face. “Gwaine’ is quite protective, I apologize."

“Is that what you call him?” Another laugh fills the room, drawn sword disappearing into thin air. Arthur can’t find it within himself to be humored. _Merlin was leaving...and Gwaine was waiting._

“You...don’t have to leave," He whispers, "Camelot will be a safe place for you.”

Merlin gives him a soft smile, tinted with lingering sadness. “I sure it will be, but I can’t stay.”

“Why not?” Arthur knows he sounds desperate, but Merlin doesn’t seem to notice...or care.

“Because I finally found somewhere I belong Arthur-”

The king thinks he may break into pieces at that very moment... T _hat is what Merlin should be saying about Camelot...about him._

“The druids are peaceful people. They only wish to learn and love freely. I can’t leave them unprotected, they depend on me...and I feel accepted there...safe.

“You can feel safe here," Arthur insists, "Camelot can be your home again.”

“I'm not sure Camelot was ever my home.”

The king knows Merlin isn’t purposely doing so, but the verbal wounds hurt him more than any physical injury he’s ever acquired.

“What about our destiny?" He tries, desperate to find a way for the other to stay.

“My job is to protect you and I will always do that no matter where I am. I swear to it.”

“But how can I protect you? How can I know you’re safe?”

“You don’t have to worry about me. That's not your job."

Arthur wants to beg for the first time in his life. He wants to get on his knees and plead for Merlin to stay. 

“Do you trust me?" The king croaks, surprising himself with the question. The warlock before him startles as if struck.

It feels like that night all over again. The vulnerability...the pain. He can only hope that the outcome is different this time.

“I trust you’ll do amazing things for Camelot.”

“That wasn’t my question Merlin.”

There’s a tense stillness before he delivers his finishing blow, “The last time I trusted you, you threatened to kill me.”

He deserves that and probably much more. Asking Merlin to stay was selfish. It was cruel and unfair. He couldn’t, not after everything. Because if he isn't able to forget how he had felt when Morgana had said those words to him, then how can he expect Merlin to forgive...to forget? 

“I would have never... _will never_ harm you.” No matter what, he needs the man before him to know that one thing. 

“We’re both different people now. I think it’s best if we just forget about the past.”

All Arthur can manage is a quiet nod. The realization dawns, anguish consuming any part of him that had not been injured prior. _.._ Their chance at friendship had died that night.

“Will you visit?"

“Maybe-”

He means no. And that response aches as bad as if Merlin had cursed him to hell. 

“I should be going, Arthur."

Merlin stares for a moment and Arthur tries to ingrain the image of blue eyes into his memory.. _._ Tries to pretend the goodbye is mutual and that he’s being mature by letting him go without a fight. He doesn't want to forget. Any of it. Good or bad, it doesn't matter. If it's him Arthur wants to remember forever.

“I’m sorry, Merlin. I-" There's nothing else to say, he's just sorry. "Truly, I am."

The younger man stops mid-way through the door and a false sense of hope fantasizes that he might come back and never leave. That they'll sit together for the rest of the night and talk until the sun rises. That maybe they'll tease each other and kiss until their lips are numb. But it’s only images from hopeless dreams, and the Merlin doesn’t turn around as he responds. “As am I Arthur. Rest well.”

The doors quiet as it closes behind him. And unlike last time, Arthur is left to watch as Merlin walks away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> research paper is still due and I indeed have still not slept.
> 
> yoloswag


	8. Chapter 8

Arthur is not sulking and he has every intention of banishing the next idiot he claims he is. 

“I am not bloody sulking!” He seethes, throwing himself onto the chair opposite of the physician. 

“I don’t believe I said you were, sire.” Gauis responds uninterestedly, eyes set on the work before him. In the past months, the older man had become strangely accustomed to the young king’s daily rants. 

“No, but everyone else has! I walk down the hall and I hear the maidservants whispering ‘oh poor king he’s sulking harder than before.’ Then one of my knights blabbers on about how he feels sorry for me! Ridiculous Gauis Ridiculous! What would I have to sulk about?! Nothing! Because I don’t sulk, I’m a king!”

“Of course..."

Arthur growls in annoyance, eyes narrowing, “You think I’m sulking, don’t you?”

“You _have_ been quite irritable lately.”

“Because everyone’s irritating!”

“You believe the problem lies with everyone else?”

“Yes, in fact, I do!"

Gauis hums, fixated on the concoction before him, “Why are you glaring at me sire?”

Arthur immediately snaps his head away, muttering belligerently, “I wasn’t. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Arthur Pendragon!” The entire quarters tremble at the force in which Guinevere slams open the door, causing Gauis's potion to slosh onto the table. 

“Guinevere," The king grits dangerously, “Do you understand that it is treason to speak to me like that? Look at what you've done to poor Gau-"

“Shut up,!" She snaps, hands waving angrily, “You’ve made another servant cry! Arthur, it’s been two months! Sulking is not going to make him appear in front of you. We’re all tired of your temper and it’s worse than usual. This is the **12th** servant that’s come and ask me to protect them from you. Will you serve yourself when all your servants have run away."

“This,” He punctuates each word with a pointed finger,“-has nothing to do with Merlin! Either way, why would we bother asking him for help? He made his decision to leave Camelot and with that, we are meant to leave him in peace. We are capable without him.”

Gwen lets out a disbelieving snort, “I understand you think you’re being noble by letting him go, but you’re just being an idiot now! Put your feelings aside and think about Camelot's future. How is a council that has no knowledge of magic meant to make laws concerning the manner? We need his help, Arthur!”

_Absolutely not._

“Gauis!” Arthur exclaims, finally drawing the scowling man’s attention, “Can’t you help write the laws?!” 

“No.”

“And why not? What if I demand it!?"

“I haven’t practiced magic in years and I simply don’t have the time. Illnesses are rising as Winter nears and I must be prepared for the worst of cases."

The king drops his head onto the table with an echoing thump, “Guinevere find another sorcerer!”

“Arthur!” She snarls, tugging at his ear until he’s forced to face her, “ Stop being stubborn, Lancelot and I can ride out and ask him to help. Listen to me, there’s no harm in asking. If he doesn’t want to then a druid may be willing, but we aren’t getting anywhere and the year is almost over. You said you wanted these laws passed before then, didn’t you?”

“Hmph.” He mutters as he shoves his face back into the table. 

“Was that permission?” 

“How do you plan on locating him?” Gauis interjects curiously.

“Gwaine wrote us! He invited Lancelot and I to visit, so we decided it would be the perfect opportunity to ask Merlin to come and help. It’s fantastic timing, isn’t it?”

“He won’t say yes.” 

“And if he does? Please,” She runs a comforting hand through his hair, speaking softer, “I understand that you’re scared, but maybe this is a chance for you to properly talk to him.” 

And say what? Apologize again? Ask him to stay? Hadn't he already done all that? 

“No,” he sighs, lifting his head to properly address her “If Merlin chooses to come it’s solely to focus on the laws, no personal affairs are to be involved.”

“But-” 

“Guinevere, he’s made his choice. I don’t feel it is fair of me to attempt to change his mind. He’s finally happy and we shouldn’t try and take that away from him. I will allow for you to ask but if he declines you are not to ask again, do you understand?”

“He’ll say yes!” The maiden beams brightly,” I'm sure of it!"

“Very well. Now leave me alone and for the gods, knock next time." She exits with a quick bow and radiant smile, pleased to have gotten her way. _He truly did let her get away with too much._

Arthur turns to see Gauis no longer focused on his work, instead carefully examining him, "Are you alright sire?”

He gives a dismissive wave, slumping further into his chair, “Of course.”

* * *

“And you’re sure the chambers clean? Because if-”

“Yes your majesty, the room is exceptionally clean. In fact, I believe the other servants cleaned it every time you asked...all **six**. I don’t believe there’s anything else for them to do.”

Arthur proceeds to ignore the annoyance lurking in the servant's voice. He was only worrying because this was a diplomatic exchange, it most definitely did not have to do with secretly hoping Merlin would be so enamored by the room he would decide to stay. _No, definitely not that._

“Do you believe this room is too small?” He continues, stress bubbling from within, “ Do we have anything more comfortable or-”

“Sire, this is the largest room besides your own. I am certain Lord Emrys will be beyond appreciative."

When had they all begun calling Merlin that? It felt so...foreign...strange even. 

Arthur rubs at his temples as he inspects the room, bending down to test the comfort of the bed, “Aren’t those blankets ugly, George?”

His servant blinks at him in utter disbelief, “Those are your exact blankets, sire.”

“Oh.” 

* * *

“Your majesty?” A knock at the door interrupts the council member that Arthur had long stopped paying attention to.

“Enter.”

“Lady Guinevere and Sir Lancelot have returned.” 

The morning's anxiousness returns in a quick beat. “Are they accompanied?”

“Yes, sire. Lord Emrys and another accompany them.”

_Another?_

* * *

Walking towards the stable is by far the most gruesome things he’s ever done. Elyan, Percival, and Leon accompany him, speaking excitedly as they make their way. 

“I’m going to ask Merlin if he can weld me a black sword like the one he has!”

“I want one too!” 

“If we’re legalizing magic, can he teach me how to-”

“Men,” he glowers, “Merlin is here on behalf of the Druid. You’ll do best to let him work."

“He’s going to be busy, eh?” 

“Guess we’re going to have to get Gwaine to entertain us then. Maybe he knows some magic now," Elyan responds with a grin.

Arthur tenses at the mention of the former knight, turning sharply towards the other, “What are you lot talking about? Gwaine isn’t coming.”

“Sure he is!" Percival chirps eagerly,“Gwaine is too protective of Merlin to let him come alone.”

The statement only strengthens the tension. _Not possible._ His men knew no better, after all, he had never revealed that Gwaine had been banished. It had been done out of blind anger, but he found that he never regretted the action. That was the last man he’d have to worry about.

“Hello!”

His thoughts are disrupted by the sight of a joyous Guinevere dragging Lancelot and Merlin behind her. 

“Look who we have here!” She grins, all but pushing Merlin forward. 

“Don't break him Gwen, he’s just arrived!” Elyan laughs, contradicting his own words by immediately pulling the warlock into a crushing embrace. 

Arthur stands quietly as the other knights greet the brunette with tight hugs and loud laughs. _Gods he felt horribly out of place._ His heart drops as the group falls silent, eyes expectantly on him.

 _Oh yes, of course, he had to speak._ “Lord Emrys!” He blurts, presenting his hand for a proper greeting. 

Merlin stares back before breaking into a crinkling laugh, meeting his grip with a firm shake.

“Your highness,” He gives a slight bow,“You may call me Merlin.”

Arthur would die before he admits his heart skips several traitorous beats. 

“Merlin it is. Then please, call me Arthur-”

The warlock nods his agreement as the king continues his prepared greeting, (which had taken him all of 3 nights to prepare) “Camelot understands that you’re taking time away from your people to aid us and we are ever so grateful. You are an honored and valued ally. I pray that your stay here is most pleas-”

“Don’t you mean ‘our stay' princess?” 

Arthur blinks at the interruption, jaw instantly clenching at the voice. No fucking way.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He spits, all thoughts of his prepared speech forgotten. 

Gwaine guffaws, loud and taunting, “You didn’t actually think I’d let my pretty Emrys come here without protection. You already betrayed him once bef-”

“Enough," Merlin snaps furiously, turning to face the approaching man.

“Don’t worry love,” Gwaine swings his arm around the warlock, "Princesses here should be able to handle a bit of rebellion, don’t you think?”

Arthur can only focus on the burning anger overcoming him as his hands clench roughly, nails digging into his palms. “You’re not welcome in my kingdom Gwaine.”

“Oh yes, you banished me didn’t you?”

A collective gasp surrounds them as Merlin turns to him, wide-eyed, “What do you mean?"

 _Dear gods_ -

"Well," Gwaine purrs, bright grin splitting his face, “If I’m not allowed to stay in Camelot then Merlin can’t stay either. The druid elders left me in charge of protecting him and I can hardly do so if I’m not beside my lord.”

“Gwaine shut up.” Merlin steps between the two, a sense of royalty surrounding him as he faces Arthur. 

“I apologize for the misunderstanding. I hadn't known prior of the situation. We can leave if-”

“You don’t have to leave!”

The warlock sighs, giving a grateful nod, “I am grateful for your kindness and I regret that I must ask, but would it be possible to allow Gwaine to stay with me? He would be of great help."

 _Say no, say no, say no._ It takes all of his internal strength to not leap forward and smash the beaming bastard’s face in _._ Gods, he couldn't decline Merlin's request without seeming like an utter prat. _How could he reasonably deny Gwaine’s stay? He had barely had a reason to banish the man. Though it was not as if he really needed one...he was the king._

Arthur grits his teeth as he forces his reply, “I will see if there is a room available for him.”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about such a thing. Merls and I can just share.”

Arthur was going to murder the man.

“Gwaine, I will not repeat myself.” Merlin snarls, a bright blush overcoming his face.

A knot in the king's stomach tightens uncomfortably at the reaction.

“Why don't we get you to your chambers?" Guinevere proposes, a well-needed interruption of the taut environment. 

“That sounds lovely Gwen!" Gwaine follows the retreating couple with a wink in Arthur's direction, leaving Merlin before the king, shifting uncomfortably. 

“Arthur, I truly am sorry. I promise that I will speak to him. His behavior does not represent neither myself or the Druids, I-”

“Merlin. You don’t owe me an apology. Gwaine and I have always had...difficulties. I should apologize for letting my emotions get the best of me, it was truly unbecoming.”

“Not at all," The warlock denies kindly. 

_I'm so fucked._ Arthur finally allows himself to indulge in the other man's features, swallowing air at his bright eyes. _He's so pretty._

“Well,” Merlin continues, turning to follow the others with one last bow, “I should definitely bathe. I look forward to our work."

Arthur manages a forced smile as the brunette hurries to catch up with the retreating group. 

_This is going to be torture,_ he concludes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O EM GEE SORRY GUYS FINALS R CRAZY.  
> I wrote 4 essays this weekend all like a bazillion pages long. 
> 
> Also I hate this chapter. I've rewritten it so many times and it's still bad. So I am super sorry but this is all I got WHOOPS. 
> 
> This is the last week of finals so I should be back to updating consistently.


	9. Chapter 9

Arthur couldn’t have been more wrong. It _was worst than torture._

 **One week**... that's how long Merlin and Gwaine had been in Camelot and Arthur had already planned 112.5 ways he could make Gwaine vanish...and that was putting it kindly. The king was paying no attention to the council member who spoke before them, eyes instead trained on the way the former knight had casually wrapped his arm around Merlin’s shoulder.

 _As if they were lovers..._ _Were they?_

Arthur knew his hands were bound to become bloody if he kept digging his nails into his sensitive palms, but it was far better than the violent alternatives his mind had spent the last 7 days fantasizing about. 

The most excruciating part of the scene before him was how completely unphased Merlin was by the contact, his gaze set intently on the speaking man as he nodded and smiled in agreement, oblivious to the possessive limb holding him. 

It didn't help that Merlin and he had barely conversed since the warlock's arrival, only engaging in brief greetings or agreements at the council.

And okay to be fair, Arthur hadn't attempted to engage in a discussion, but even if he had the odds were far from his favor. Gwaine never allowed Merlin to be alone for longer than a few minutes at a time and Arthur would croak before he approached them as a pair.

Ahead, the former knight pulls Merlin closer to whisper in his ear. _Make that 120 ways he could make Gwaine vanish._

“Arthur,” Gwen’s fierce whisper startles him from gruesome daydreams, “Could you at least pretend to pay attention?” Lancelot nods in stony agreement from the seat beside her.

“I am!” He snaps in a failed whisper, voice projecting louder than intended. 

All attending members of the table turn to him expectantly, watching expectantly for his input. 

“Was there something you wanted to say, sire?” The council member inquires at his wide-eyed silence. 

He couldn't pretend even if he wanted to, Arthur had absolutely zero idea what they had been talking about. He gives an apologetic shake, burning at Merlin's curious gaze, "No, my apologies. Though, I believe that would be all for the day."

“Ah, of course,” The councilmember nods, “Shall we continue tomorrow, your highness?”

_Gods yes. He couldn't bear to embarrass himself further._

“Yes," Arthur agrees, standing to his feet, "You’re all excused. We’ll begin at the same time tomorrow.” 

Gwaine sends him a glare as he makes his way to the door, an exasperated Merlin following after. The rest of the room empties quickly, leaving only Guinevere and Lancelot, who silently observe him.

“You’re an idiot.” Gwen suddenly infers as he retakes his seat with a groan. 

“Love, please-” Lancelot chides to her disapprovingly. 

“What are you going to do about this jealousy of yours, Arthur? Because I remember you saying there were going to be no 'personal affairs' if Merlin came. Yet, you can’t last a minute before you’re ogling at him or glaring at Gwaine. You’re the king, you understand that, yes?”

“Guinevere," he growls, "For once, would you mind your tongue? I have done nothing out of order."

“Gwaine is purposely trying to upset you, you know how he is and you're letting it get to you!"

It was undoubtedly the truth. _But what kind of king would he be if he admitted to such? He wasn't supposed to be bothered by childish taunts or games._

"No such thing is happening." Arthur snaps, ignoring their disbelieving stares as he rises.

"Arthur, you have to talk to Merlin. You will never be able to function properly if you don't."

“I will not!"

“Why not?” She demands, throwing her hands out in frustration.

“Because I already tried, Guinevere!"

"They try again! Is he worth so little that you give up after one half-arsed attempt?"

Arthur fumes, turning to her with a glare so dark Lancelot steps between them. "She didn't mean that, sire. Gwen, apologize."

Guinevere scowls with her own intensity, blazing angrily, "I did mean it and I will not apologize for speaking the truth. That's why you gave me this position, isn't it Arthur?"

She was right, no doubt about it. His last attempt had hardly been one at all, giving up before he had even properly apologized. And yet, Arthur burns with anger, his treacherous traits acquired from years with Uther do not simply fade overnight and her blatant defiance makes him itch. His frustration, jealousy, and irritation feel overwhelming and she pushes further than anyone else dares. As if she could read him with no effort at all. 

Guinevere was too smart for her own good...it made him feel studied, inferior. Especially when it had to do with Merlin.. _.especially when she right._

"You'd do well to remember your place," he snarls, taking the final steps out of the council room with a thunderous slam.

The argument in the room behind him is instantaneous but he's far too flustered to consider apologizing, stalking down the hall with a gaze that demands he remain unbothered. 

_This was not the actions of a king. He was allowing his emotions to get the better of him_. As insolent as Guinevere was he knew she did it out of the goodness of her heart...just as Merlin once had. They all only wanted the best for him. Arthur curses under his breath, knowing an apology is necessary before the day's end.

But for now, he only wants to be alone, no distractions, no Gwaine, no pestering couples, no **Merlin.**

A bath would likely do him well, give him time to properly think. 

Arthur makes it to the final hall before he's disturbed, a person suddenly turns the corner slamming directly into him with a startled gasp. His arms immediately reach out to stabilize what he assumes is an unsuspecting servant, forcing himself to remain civil as he acknowledges them, "Are you alright?"

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” 

_Damn it. This was the absolute last person he needed to see._ Arthur forces a smile, nodding graciously, “You needn't worry, I'll just be on my way."

His movement is stopped by a sudden grasp to his wrist, startling as he turns to Merlin in shock, "Wha-"

“I...actually was actually looking for you.”

Arthur's chest stammers at the hand wrapped firmly around his own, eyes set on the contact. The warlock follows his stare and immediately withdraws, paling at the action. "Sorry, I didn't mean to grab you like that, I-"

"Merlin," he interrupts carefully, "It's alright. Was there something you needed?"

It's more than alright and the king's wrist burns from the unexpected touch. A reminder of how they had once been, constantly touching, talking...the complete opposite from what they are now.

“I apologize if this is inappropriate of me, but I wanted to ask if you were doing okay? You seemed quite...flustered during the council meeting and I was unsure if you were ill or if I could be of any help...” Merlin's words drift off uncertainly, unsure if he’s crossing into dangerous territory.

Arthur despises the way hope flutters into his previously angered heart, Merlin's concern, a privilege he thought he would never possibly experience again.

“Oh," He can't help the small smile that finds its way onto his face, "I'm quite alright. Thank you for your concern, Merlin. I was just-” _Arthur couldn't tell him he was too busy planning Gwaine's untimely demise and being an arse._ "-lost in thought. I should apologize for the interruption, you've come all the way here and I meant no disrespect by ending today's meeting short." 

Merlin smiles back, just as soft but a million times prettier, "Would you be upset if I told you I started to drift off towards the end?"

Arthur breathes, crossing his fingers as he smiles wider, "That would be quite hypocritical of me, I think I drifted off as soon as Helsin began speaking." 

The warlock laughs, much to his pleasure, face crinkling pleasantly. "I could hardly blame you for that."

They linger silently, smiles plastered to each of their faces. 

This is a chance. They were alone, in better moods, and...what better apology was there for Guinevere than actually heeding her advice?

“Merlin," Arthur stammers, "Would you-"

“Merlin!” Elyan interrupts with a boom from across the hall, several knights chirping loudly behind him.“Are you joining us at the tavern? That drunk Gwaine is already down there!"

The sorcerer bursts into another bright smile, raising his voice to be heard, “I’ve work to do, you know? Tell that idiot I won’t come to get him if he gets pissed out of his mind again!"

“No fun! You’ve turned into a proper lord Merls! What about you, your highness, will you be accompanying us?”

Arthur shoos the group away with a dismissive wave, “No, now would the lot of you get out of my castle? You're making a ruckus."

His men disperse with a few final remarks and unnecessarily loud laughs. 

“They certainly haven't changed." Merlin grins, shaking his head fondly.

“It seems they never will,” Arthur returns, his gaze betraying him as he finds himself admiring the younger man.

“Well,” Merlin begins as he bows in farewell, “I’m relieved you're well-”

“Merlin, would you like to go on a ride with me?”

The king contemplates melting into the ground at the abrupt question, the startled display of the other man only furthering his regret. 

“Um...right now?” 

They simultaneously glance at the window opposite to them, the sun completely disappeared into the night, darkness taking control in its absence.

Arthur resists the urge to run, clearing his throat instead, “Oh, I hadn’t realized the time. Never-”

“We...could go tomorrow, if you’d still like?” Merlin flushes at his own offer, eyes glued to the floor.

The king nearly chokes on air, forcing disbelief from his expression as he nods, “I have training early in the morning but after would work...if that’s alright with you?”

“That’s perfect. We could further discuss laws."

Arthur's bubbling excitement is struck by the newfound nature of the ride. And yet, it's better than nothing. It's a chance he wouldn't have originally had if he never tried. “Ah, of course."

He gives a mental thanks to Guinevere as Merlin bows. 

"Have a good night." 

Arthur most definitely does not miss the quiet smile that falls across the other's face, “You as well Arthur.”

 _Shit._ He really did need to go find Gwen to apologize...and thank her. 

Merlin's grin flashes in his mind as he makes his way back to the council chamber. _Yes, he most definitely had to thank her._

* * *

Arthur releases his men from training earlier than he ever has, ignorant to the confused glances they give him as he cheerfully sends them off. Only Lancelot knows the reason behind his startling good mood, clapping his shoulder with a grin as he leaves amongst the other knights. 

He all but skips to the stables, fondness filling him as he catches sight of Merlin speaking to his horse, combing through her hair with great care.

"Good Morning, Merlin." He smiles, all too amused when the warlock startles at his sudden arrival. 

"Morning Arthur. It looks like we picked a fine day to ride, the sky is the clearest it's been in ages."

 _The gods are on my side for once,_ the king thinks, flushing at the girlish nature of the thought. "I certainly agree, shall we be off then?" 

It isn't until they're both atop their horses that Merlin speaks again, gesturing forwards with a kind smile, "After you, your highness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so guess what happened right? I was doing my thing,100% sure I'd get this chapter done last night. (It's now 3:40 am but we don't have to talk about it) So I'm doing my thang writing and then I got an urge to check my school dashboard and I HAD A WHOLE ASS FINAL TO DO. Like, excuse me? and it was due at 12 so I was low-key dying inside, but idk aren't professors supposed to tell you THAT SHI. Imagine if I didn't check? THanks gods I'm a psychic. (I'm not, if I was I def wouldn't be in damn college)
> 
> ANYWHO I'm done with my storytime. You guys are so freaking nice and you're comments make my day. Like fr, thanks for reading because this shit is so slow-burn I was tempted to js make one of the ships get freaky with it and end the story but I've been motivated so I'll do it properly or WHATEVS.
> 
> HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT MWAH


	10. Chapter 10

It's not his fault that he almost steers his horse into a tree more than once. 

His gaze keeps finding its way back to Merlin, a now seemingly skilled horseman compared to the sulky servant who would slump over the beast’s side and fall at any given moment.

“So,” Merlin starts, disrupting the silence they had settled into, “I have a request regarding Camelot’s protection, if you’re willing, of course.”

_Oh yes, they were to discuss such matters..._

“Please, go on.” Arthur urges, albeit absolutely _not_ wanting to hear a single thing more of laws or magic. Despite numerous distractions during council meetings, he was almost certain he could recite each and every one of the 82 laws that had been decided upon. He would have indeed, appreciated a break from such talk... _but it was Merlin, he'd listen to the man speak of grass if he could._

“Since I’ll be leaving soon, I thought that it might be best if a spell was cast upon the borders. One that could prevent dark magic from entering the kingdom. Although I believe what you’re doing is amazing, with the acceptance of magic many will try and flee to Camelot, those who are both innocent and cruel."

“That sounds promising, but how would that work if you’re not here? Doesn’t a sorcerer need to remain where their magic is cast?” 

“It’s a relatively simple spell, it won’t be the strongest but it’ll hold no matter where I am. In fact,” The mage continues with a soft laugh, “Even if I happen to face an untimely demise you won’t have to worry about it ceasing to work.” 

Arthur doesn’t find this statement nearly as humorous as the brunette does but _he is_ intrigued by the newfound knowledge. “Magic works even when the user has passed?” 

“Only for some.”

“A benefit of being the strongest sorcerer on the planet, yes?”

Merlin flushes brightly, waving his hand dismissively. “What are your thoughts on the spell? It _would_ bring me further peace of mind knowing that there is a barrier protecting the kingdom, but I understand if you’re hesitant.” 

Strangely enough, Arthur doesn't find that he is at all. The idea was almost comforting-- _except the thought that it might keep Merlin from visiting_ \- but he would never allow his selfishness to deny his people safety. He wasn’t _that_ stupid.

“If it won’t be trouble for you, I would truly be grateful for it, Merlin.” 

A relieved smile falls onto the brunette’s face, “Well then, that settles it, I’ll cast it before I return.”

“And when will that be?”

“We should be through in a couple of days, yes?”

_So soon?_

“With the meetings, but won’t you stay for the feast?"

Only the clicks of their horse’s hooves sound as Merlin hesitates, “I...don’t think I can.”

“In a hurry to leave?” Arthur questions, hoping the enmity in his voice isn't obvious.

“The elders wish to expand our relations. I must return to prepare for the upcoming visitors we will host.”

“The druids are seeking allies?” 

“More like acquaintances. They’ve lived a nomadic life for ages, but they finally wish to settle. The council wants to ensure that we are on admirable terms with the surrounding kingdoms.”

“Have you prepared treaties and such?”

“I’m continuing to work on them, but they’re far from simple,” Merlin runs a hand through his hair with a huff, “Too many damn laws if you ask me.”

“I know the feeling. As for the surrounding kingdoms, does Camelot happen to be one of them?"

“Oh...no. We’re quite far from one another.”

“Ah," Arthur grimaces, "Was that done purposely?” _Damn him and his big mouth._

Uncomfortable tension returns between them, both pairs of eyes set forward as they continue riding. 

“The Druids...have faced harm and hatred throughout their entire lives, they are careful in who they trust.” 

That was a kind way of saying they had stayed as far away from the kingdom as possible. 

“Were they upset that you came to assist us?” Arthur sees Merlin shrug slightly from his peripheral. “They were originally weary.”

“Rightfully so, with our past. I know I’ve already said it, but I am truly grateful for your help and I hope that you can extend my thanks to the Druids as well.”

“It is an honor to help you. You've done well and you're on your way to uniting all of Albion."

But that doesn't sound right, Arthur hadn't done any of his accomplishments alone. It wasn't he that defeated Theron's army, turned Morgana onto the right path, or even kept himself alive. It was all Merlin...it had always been Merlin. 

"I am on the way to uniting Albion because of you. I wouldn't have done half of what I've accomplished if it weren't for your help. You know that, right?

"That's not true," The warlock shakes his head defiantly, eyes set stubbornly as he rides on, "You would have done it one way or another, Arthur."

"How many times over would I be dead?"

Merlin falls silent, urging his horse faster. An obvious sign he doesn't wish to discuss the topic further. And yet, it doesn't make sense. Arthur hadn't offered Merlin gold or riches, he just wants the warlock to know he's appreciated...that he knew what Merlin had done for him and that it meant the world to him because it did. Arthur couldn't begin to comprehend how many times he would have died if it hadn't been for the younger man. 

Was it truly such a horrid thing for them to speak of?

Arthur slows his horse, taking a deep breath as he remembers Guinevere's words just the night before. _He had to take risks if he wanted results._ "Merlin," he calls, the younger man stopping his horse just ahead, "I think we need to talk about what's happened...all of it."

“Maybe we don't need to. We don't have to make things worse than they are."

"So will we just never speak of-"

"Wait-” Merlin holds his hand out to indicate silence, gaze set intently before them. “I sense something.” 

Arthur immediately tenses, hand reaching towards his sword, “Bandits?” he whispers, eyes searching cautiously. 

“I don’t believe so," Merlin squints to better his vision, letting out a sudden gasp as he dismounts his horse with a glorious laugh.

“What is it?” Arthur calls to the younger man, hurrying to tie their horses and follow after. 

“Look!” Merlin points to a figure before them, a baby deer in the clearing, leg trapped in a hunting snare meant for rabbits.

Arthur rolls his eyes pointedly as the warlock falling to his knees before the creature. A terribly adorable sight, at that. Merlin pets the whimpering animal before whispering, his eyes flashing as the contraption around the deer’s leg melts into nothing. The critter immediately attempts to stand, much to Merlin’s dismay as he reprimands it, “I’ve got to heal your leg first silly.”

_Only this man would argue with a bloody animal._

Another chant leaves the once blood matted fur clean and Arthur can’t help the pride that blooms in his chest as the deer stands, testing its leg carefully before nuzzling its head into Merlin’s hand in appreciation. “You can go back home now," the sorcerer smiles widely, giving it a gentle nudge.

Both men watch as it bounds out of sight, deeper into the forest.

“Arthur,” Merlin glowers, turning to him, voice far less friendly than when he had been addressing the damned animal.“If you hunt him, it'll be bad luck forever, understand?"

“What?! Why would I-” He falters at the incredulous look he's given, “I won’t-’” he sighs defeatedly, "Though your hatred of hunting is unruly."

“When it’s unreasonable." Merlin chimes, brushing his trousers of dirt. 

“How can acquiring food be unreasonable?” 

“No one needs to eat meat every single day.”

“And that’s why you’re so skinny.” Arthur grins, thankful for the absence of silence their previous conversation had caused. 

The warlock lets out a scoff accompanied by unintelligible grumbles, but a flash of silver past the brunette is what draws the king’s attention. 

_No._ His heart immediately sinks at the view. A bow in the distance is pointed directly at Merlin, quipped with an arrow already descending forward. Arthur's body moves before his voice. _Protect_. His mind screams at him. 

"Merlin!"

The warlock begins to turn, unknowing of the weapon making its way towards his head. _But it all happens too fast._ Arthur reaches Merlin before he can fully turn, throwing himself atop the younger man.

“What the fuck?!" Merlin gasps, the impact of falling stealing his breath. But his next shout dies as he notices the red seeping between them.

Panic overcomes Arthur at the liquid. _Had he not been fast enough to protect Merlin? Fuck, how can he be this useless?_

A sharp pain in his body is quick to reveal the truth and as he blinks down he breathes a sigh of relief. It is his own body that bleeds, the arrow protruding proudly from his chest. 

“By the gods," Merlin stares, wide-eyed and horrified. " Fuck Arthur, don’t you dare move, I'll be right back, I swear.” The warlock is gentle as he places him on the ground, eyes flashing gold as he touches Arthur's chest, sword summoned as he disappears into the trees. 

"Merlin, don't!" He croaks, intending to follow but the spell Merlin had cast leaves him unable to stand, body completely numb and useless in its state.

_Damn it!_

Long minutes pass as Arthur can only wait, unsure if he is still bleeding and yet, more concerned with the lack of Merlin's return. _Why was it taking him so damn long?_ He knew Merlin was powerful but that didn’t mean the man was invincible and there he had gone, into battle blind and unprepared. What if Theron's _men had returned?_

Dread pushes further into him, building steadily as he fights with his body, begging it to let him stand and search for the warlock.

“Arthur!” The warlock's voice calls frantically. 

Instant relief overcomes him as Merlin appears between the trees, kneeling before him with trembling hands and bright eyes. Blood is splattered across the younger man’s pale face, staining his soft features into a darker expression. 

“Merlin-" Arthur chokes, "What happened? Are you hurt?"

The brunette doesn’t respond, instead pulling roughly at the arrow in his chest, quickly following with a spell that comes out shaky and uncertain.

Panic fills the king, watching the other man shiver, the blood on his face streaming over his lips. “You’re bleeding. Attend to your own-”

“It’s not my blood." 

_Oh._

“Are you alri-”

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Merlin shouts, startling Arthur into silence. 

“I- I was just trying to-"

“Have you lost your mind? You can’t just jump in front of an arrow like that! You don’t even have armor on!”

H _e had only wanted to protect the idiot._ “Merlin, It would have hit you directly in the head. I'm not going to apologize for protecting you."

“I’m a sorcerer, it wouldn’t have mattered!”

“Of course it would have! Are you mad?"

“You could have died Arthur!"

“Well I didn’t, did I?” 

“That’s not the point now, is it?!”

Arthur's own fuse snaps as he sits up through undeniable pain to meet the other’s gaze. “The point is that I didn’t want you to get hurt!”

Merlin lets out a humorless laugh, wiping at his face with the same trembling hand, blood smearing messily across it. “You are the king, you can not afford to act so stupidly."

Arthur can’t deny the hurt that fills him at the remark. Why was it stupid to want to protect the man he loved? "It wasn't stupid," he spits angrily. 

“It was!" Merlin shouts, "There was no reason to do what you did. What would have happened if you died? Did you even stop to think about that?"

Arthur swats at the hand reaching back to tend to him. “If I had stopped you would be dead! And then what Merlin? Would I have just had to shrug it off and return to Camelot alone? Why are you the only one allowed to protect? Don't you see how unfair you're being?"

Merlin pushes him down to his back without hesitation, working as he snarls, “Shut up. Just shut up.”

“No!" _And damn is Arthur angry._ “This whole time I’ve stayed quiet, hoping that you’d reach out to me. That we could finally have a decent conversation, but it’s like you want to forget about everything.”

“Maybe I do!” Merlin thunders, finally removing his hands from Arthur's chest.

“But what about me? What if I can’t forget?”

“Then you’re a selfish bastard!”

Arthur laughs bitterly, shaking his head, “Is calling me names, what makes you feel better? Then yell at me, I don’t care! But tell me how you feel because I’m lost and I don’t know what to do Merlin!”

“I have nothing to say to you," The warlock whispers shakily, "I came here to help restore magic into the kingdom and then I’ll return home, that’s all.”

“That’s not your home, damn it!" 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You belong here.” Arthur grits, burning, needing to make the other man understand that. 

Merlin stands abruptly, glaring when the king follows after, “Fuck off, Arthur!"

“Ever the poet, Merlin!"

"Why are you doing this now? Why can't you just let it go?"

"Because I can not lose you again!"

Merlin turns away, body visibly shaking and Arthur steps forwards to do something...anything...stopping his motion at the bitter response, “You need me when it’s convenient. I’m not doing that to myself again. I can’t.”

“That’s not true," Arthur whispers, shaking his head desperately, "I need you _always._ " 

"Do you need a new manservant, is that it?"

“You think I’m asking you to stay so that you can be my fucking servant? You are meant for much more, we both know that. We need a court sorcerer, you could help those who struggle with magic, those who need guidance. You could sta-”

“Don’t., Merlin cautions darkly, “Don’t ask me to stay, Arthur. Don’t tell me all the things that _could_ be. I can’t hear that, I've already told you this.”

“Why?! Because deep down you want to stay? Because you miss it here? Tell me why you can’t hear it, explain it to me!”

The younger man swings around, eyes rimmed red as unmistakable tears pool. “Why are you insisting on being difficult? Why are you asking me to stay now? It’s too late! Why don’t you get that? I needed you to ask me to stay two years ago! I needed you then and you threw me away! You looked at me like I was a monster, Arthur! Do you know...what that does to someone?"

Words...Arthur once again can’t think of words good enough to apologize and he hates it, despises how he’s a king that can’t speak when it matters the most.

“Merlin...I-I can’t take back what I’ve done to you. I know I can’t, but I want to make things right. I don’t know how to express how I feel but I need you to know how much you mean to me. How much I value you...because I do and I want to show you. Please, Merlin, I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

The warlock bites at his lips, holding back a sob that shakes his body, “That’s not what I’m looking for. I don't need reparations."

“Then what do you want?” Arthur pleads, taking a step closer. "Tell me, I’ll do anything.”

“I want to go back now.” Merlin's trembling hands struggle with untying his horse from the tree.

“Merlin-”

“I don’t know, ok?!” His choked sob echoes through the forest, stabbing directly into the king’s chest. “I look at you and I don’t what I feel anymore, Arthur. I used to be so sure and now I just don’t know. I have no idea what I am doing anymore."

“I want to be there for you. Let me be there for you, Merlin."

“Just find another sorcerer! Find another servant, why does it have to be me?!”

Arthur stares as the blood on Merlin’s face mixes with the tears that pour and he steps closer, squeezing his eyes shut as he breathes out quietly, “Because it’s always been you...and I wanted to tell you that night. I wanted to tell you that there was no one else, there could be no one else for me...I love you, Merlin. I always have.”

The brunette stands frozen, his only movements are the violent shivers that run through his body. 

How the hell have they end up here? _How is it that the same manservant he had been ready to kiss in his chambers that night, stands before him a completely changed man...a stranger at that?_

Tears, blood, dirt, and leaves stain Merlin, “Go home, Arthur." The mage mounts his horse without another glance, kicking at its side and taking off towards the kingdom.

Arthur lay his head on his saddle with a pained curse. He looks down at his blood-covered tunic, almost laughing maniacally as he takes in the sight of the skin that had been pierced. No wound remained...as if it had never happened to begin with. 

It's painfully ironic for the moment.

* * *

“What did you do to him?”

Arthur had spent nearly an hour in the forest after Merlin had left and when he had finally mustered the energy to mount his horse and return to Camelot, he knew one thing for certain...He was to be left alone.

He had ignored the worried stares and attempted questions from guards and servants alike as he made his way into the castle, dirtied and bloodied from the attack.

The man blocking his path was his breaking point and he knew his day was only going to get worse,

“Gwaine,” Arthur speaks slow and clear, his intent undeniable, “Get the fuck away from me.”

The larger man only steps closer, a dangerous glint lighting his eyes, “I’ll kill you if you touched him. I don’t give a damn if you wear a crown or not.”

“From your words alone I could have you hung. My patience is wearing thin, I suggest you move.”

“I told you,” Gwaine ontinues, paying no mind to his threat, “I told you to stay away from him. To not try and get him back. But you just can’t stop, can you? You have to have everything and everyone. Have to have a mound of slaves to your dispos-”

Arthur punches and he punches hard. He revels in the way the man staggers back, red instantly spilling from his nose as he clutches at its bridge. It’s broken no doubt. _To be fair...he had given a warning._

The former knight swipes at the blood with a bellowing laugh, stepping forward hauntingly, “Don’t tell me that was your best?”

Arthur leaves marks on his palms as he clenches his fists.“Do you wish to die today?”

“Is that a promise?” Gwaine snorts, “Take your sword out all mighty king, I dare you.”

Arthur wishes more than anything he was a mad man. Wishes that he could take Excalibur and maime the bastard where he stands. 

Gwaine laughs harder at his silence, “Can’t do it, can you? Do you want to know why you can’t? It’s because you respect me, Arthur. Because I’m the man you wish you could be. I stayed by Merlin when you left him and I protect him while you sit on your arse. You can’t kill me because I take care of him and you don’t. You’re a pathetic, useless king...that’s why.”

_Everythings on fire._ _From his head to his chest, to his now bruising fist._

He wants to keep punching, wants to make sure the devil in front of him never smirks again.

_Guinevere's words return to him. Gwaine was only trying to get a rise._ _And fuck was it working._

Arthur pushes past him, too angry to enjoy the thud as the man staggers against the wall.

“The truth hurts, doesn’t it princess?!”

The words follow him all the way into his chambers. _And yeah, it really fucking does._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This stupid f****** chapter took so long.
> 
> I'm thinking I can finish this in like two/three more updates so WHOOP.
> 
> Also, this chapter is dedicated to the people who consistently comment on this fic like that shit is so cute, stop playing with me. I don't know how Ao3 works tbh because I'm kind of a grandma (no offense to any grandma's reading) but what are gifts and shit? Like idk man I sometimes read works that say they're gifted to people or people tag someone in their stuff but I'm js confused. 
> 
> Is it as simple as it sounds? If I gift something am I basically selling my soul? 
> 
> Good day my people (its 5 am idek whats up with me man)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise: Merlin's POV

Merlin’s still trembling as he sinks into the steaming tub, rubbing frantically at the blood staining his body. He ignores the way his skin pleads for rest as it reddens with rritation. It doesn't matter, he just wants all traces of the day gone...wants desperately for the image of the arrow in Arthur’s chest to be erased from his mind. 

_The idiot had jumped in front of him with no regard for his own life._ _There had been so much blood...too much._

The thought brings another wave of sobs crashing through him. 

_Clotpole, dollophead, prat, dumbass..._ the insults find their way into his thoughts as he curls further into himself, letting the water embrace him in warmth.

Merlin hadn’t meant to break down in front of Arthur. He had been sure he could survive the ride with idle talk of laws and treaties, but _oh, how foolish he had been. His_ exhaustion aligned with tension, lies, blood...he hadn’t been able to keep his mouth shut or his tears stored. 

_He had been weak again._ _Hardly a surprise._

“Merls?” 

The sudden knock forces him to take a proper breath, desperate and painful, only worsening the constraint in his chest. He weakly mutters a spell, praying it’s enough to soothe his ruined face before struggling to a stand. Wrapping a towel around his waist as he calls out, “Come in."

The chamber shakes as Gwaine enters, a wide smile in tow. “How are ya’?”

_Horrible._

“Fine, I jus-” His lie falters the moment he takes in the man’s appearance, dried blood leaves a trail down his chin, his nose twisted unnaturally to the left.“What the hell happened to you?”

“The lads in the Tavern are a mad bunch.” 

_Liar._ _No tavern man would be able to land a hit on him._

“Gwaine,” He grits, his demand for the truth not needing to be spoken. 

The older man sighs dramatically, giving a pout completely unsuitable for a warrior of his caliber. “Alright, Alright you’ve caught me. What can I say? Princess has a decent punch. The only thing proper bout’ the bastard.”

Merlin runs his hand down his face, the pounding headache that had threatened him earlier no longer avoidable. “Tell me you didn’t get into a fight with the _king._ ”

“Come on Merls, I’m not stupid enough to do that...at least not yet,” He gives a hearty chuckle, moving past the warlock to sprawl onto the large bed. “I can't say the same for the princess, he couldn't hold it in so I let him land one. Generous man aren’t I?”

Merlin doesn’t bother turning to face the other, clutching tighter at the towel wrapped around his waist. “I told you these pointless quarrels had to stop. Why do you keep trying to anger him?”

“Because he’s an idiot who deserves it. The one time you’re alone with him and you come back covered in blood. I don’t trust him one bit, he’s not-”

“If you would have asked, you would have known that it wasn’t my blood. I wasn’t even injured.”

“I knew as much, he’d be dead if you were. But that’s not the problem, is it? He put you in unnecessary danger. What even happened out there?”

Speaking of the day's events was the last thing he wanted to do, but Gwaine was unrelenting. He would never shut up or back down and Merlin remembers when he, himself was like that, bright and talkative...eons ago. “We were attacked by an archer, I didn’t notice and Arthur tried to protect me...it pierced him instead.”

Gwaine gives an indifferent grunt from his place on the bed, clueless to the way Merlin’s chest aches at the recount. “That might be the first decent thing he’s done, ay?”

He finally turns to the man lying down, voice colder than intended. “He could’ve died Gwaine.”

“Well, he _didn’t._ What happened to the archer?”

Merlin grits through his response, “He wasn’t alone.”

“There were more of em? What’d they want?”

“There were five of them. They had been out hunting and they thought they had an opportunity when they saw us alone.”

“Hmm..." Gwaine's gaze pierces him, a question before he even questions, "You kill em?”

“No.”

The warrior raises an eyebrow, doubting the honesty behind his response. 

“I didn’t need to," Merlin clarifies with a sigh. 

But he _had_ wanted to as he stood before the men, burning with anger as he thought of his king bleeding on the ground. Yet, it would have taken seconds that he wasn’t willing to waste. Broken limbs and spilled blood were enough to keep them away for as long as they lived.. _.if they made it out of the forest alive._

“So then,” Gwaine drawls curiously, “Why’d you come back a wreck? The bastard’s alive, you’re safe, you didn’t have to kill anyone. Something else happen?”

_So much had happened. All the words they had exchanged. Arthur’s confession..._

“I’m just... tired, that’s all.”

“Come on, don’t give me that shit Merls. Did he say something to you?”

_Yes._

“No," he lies again. _When wasn't he lying?_

“Merlin,” Gwaine insists, his voice rising in volume as he sits, realization dawning in his face, “Did he ask you to stay?”

The mage opts for silence, certain the conversation was only headed towards more dishonesty and frustration. 

His silence is all the other man needs as an answer, standing with a wave of newfound anger. “Of course he did. It's Arthur _fucking_ Pendragon. Couldn't have expected anything less. What’d he say to try and convince ye’? Say he was lost without you, or that he needed-”

“Gwaine-”

“-you to help his fucked up kingdo-"

“ **Gwaine.** ”

It's enough to disrupt the rant, the older man’s face falling from anger to disbelief, “Are you thinking about it? About staying?”

Merlin doesn't respond...he's not sure he can. Instead taking a deep breath as he turns to find proper clothing, the tremor in his hands not going unnoticed. His body aches as he slips into trousers, facing away from his friend as he speaks, decidedly ignoring the questions he knows he can't truthfully answer. “I need you to stop heckling him. He’s the king and we’re guests, we aren’t here to cause problems...and we already have, more than once-” _His own outburst is a shameful reminder of their behavior. "_ We represent the Druids, we are to respect the king.”

Gwaine gives an annoyed snort, “Why do you still call him that? He’s _not_ your king.”

_Yes, he is._

“This is his kingdom, whether you like it or not.” 

“That man’s hardly a leader. He doesn’t deserve loyalty, or tears, let alone yours.”

“Isn’t that for me to decide?” 

“And have you decided on him, again, Merlin? Of all people? Even after we agreed you wouldn’t return?”

 _He doesn't want to have this conversation, doesn't want to have to lie again. He can't._ Merlin slips his tunic on, stepping towards his desk as he eyes the mounds of paper atop it. “Gwaine...I need to complete the treaties.”

They both know he’s trying to run away from the topic, send the other away from some quiet. 

It's a failed attempt. 

“This is ridiculous Merlin, look at you. We’ve been here for a week and he’s already fucked your mind up. You look like you could drop dead. And now this? You’re considering staying here? This is exactly why I told him to keep the hell away from you, but he just keeps trying. It’s like he’s-”

“What are you talking about?” Merlin blinks, “What did you tell him?”

“I told the bastard to leave you alone, you’re attached to him because of the past and if he keeps asking you’ll end up crawling right back, it’ll just be another disaster. We can’t afford this.”

_What the fuck._

“Why would you do that? I’ve already handled it, I did what I promised.”

“You haven’t handled it, Merlin. You’re weak for him, you always have been.”

His body _should_ be numb from emotion at this point. The combination of anger, hurt, and confusion don't mix well, but anger is the strongest of the three, seeping into him as he considers his friend's words. “What else have you felt compelled to tell him? By the sounds of it, this isn’t the first time you’ve had a conversation with him about me...is it?”

Gwaine sighs loudly, taking his seat on the bed once more and grimacing as he rubs his broken nose. “It doesn’t matter, that’s not-”

“No," Merlin interrupts, fighting the fierceness in his tone. “If it’s regarding me I think it matters and I want to know, now.”

“Fine then, I told him the truth. That the reason he can’t stand me is because I’m by your side and he isn’t. Arthur's a selfish man, he only cares about you because he can’t have you. You don’t need to be round’ someone like that. He’s acting the perfect gentleman now, but how long do you think that’ll last? How long until he reverts back to the royal prick he really is?”

It's not that Merlin didn't know Gwaine and Arthur struggled to get along, but the last few days had shown how horrible their relationship truly was. Gwaine had been banished for reasons that were still unknown and the two spent the better part of their time glaring and arguing. _But how on earth did he get dragged into their fights?_

“Is this about you two? Or is this about me? Because I don’t understand how the hell whatever problem you have with him has to do with me and why you felt that you need to threaten him for my sake.” 

“It's about both. I don’t respect him because of how he treats you, how he treats everyone! I needed to say something to him because you can’t, you can hardly look at him without breaking. Someone had to put him into his place, why does it matter how it’s done?”

“No, you didn’t have to say anything," Merlin returns, fist clenching dangerously, "You were the one that told me I had to be more than my destiny, that I had to stop letting people belittle me. Yet you go behind my back and speak for me, not out of care but out of hopes of angering him. What have I benefited from that? What has _anyone_ benefited from it?”

“Merlin,” Gwaine stares in return, “I did what you couldn’t do. If he thinks he has a chance, he'll keep trying to get you back, it's not like you're giving a clear no.”

“I’ve done it just fine Gwaine. I’ve walked away from him more than once.”

“But you never wanted to! You always had to be convinced! Morgana and I had to keep you from returning multiple times. You would be by his side now if it weren’t for us."

“And what if _that’s_ what I wanted? Why is that so wrong?”

“Because It’s not right! Respect yourself!”

The mage can no longer contain his own outburst, voice rugged and harsh. "And this is respecting myself? What I’m doing now? Running away again? Blindly listening and following every word I’m fed, aren’t I just a servant again?!"

“This is nothing like being a servant and you know it, Merlin. You’ve created a life with the Druids, you’re not running away anymore because there’s no one hunting you. There’s just nothing left for you here. This kingdom doesn't need you anymore.”

 _Again...it was all happening again._ _Why was everything always dictated for him?_ First, it was magic he didn’t ask for, then destiny and cryptic dragons, becoming a servant, leaving, hiding, the druids, the war...his entire life. He was exhausted...and angry... _he hadn’t allowed himself to be angry in ages._ “And what if it does?" he whispers, What if Camelot still needs me?"

“Oh my gods Merlin!” Gwaine seethes,“ You can not be serious! You have a home now, people that depend on you, what could you possibly gain from staying here? Him? Is that why you want to stay?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to stay!”

“Well, you’re certainly not in a rush to leave. We shouldn’t have come here. If I knew you’d get pulled back in so easily, we would have never-”

“Damn itGwaine!” The last of his sanity disappears as he shouts at the ceiling rather than the man before him. _Because he isn’t upset at his friend, he’s angry at himself, at the world...at the neverending cycle he’s stuck in._ “I went to the Druids to be with people who were like me and because I’m Emrys I was expected to lead and then I was expected to pick a side because if I didn’t I wasn’t loyal enough! I’m constantly trying to prove myself so that the elders don’t think I’m some fucking Camelot spy! But then at the same time, everyone expects me to have all the answers and be a leader! I’m 22, I was a fucking peasant a few months ago! What do I know about leading, what do I know about life? I want to visit my mum, I want to pick herbs for Gauis, I just want to be happy! Why can’t I make decisions on my own?” 

Gwaine's anger is neverending, shaking his head in disbelief, “You’re not a child anymore Merlin! You can make your own decision but not here, you’ll just get treated like shit again. Aren’t you tired of being used?”

 _Yes...he was._ Merlin lets out a bitter laugh, slumping against the desk, suddenly wilted of all strength. _Ironic, wasn’t it?_ _How could someone be free and still feel so trapped?_ He was exhausted. Tired of all the promises he had made...Breaking them would mean betrayal. Keeping them would mean succumbing to this life.. _.whatever "this" was._

“You don’t need him," Gwaine begins, his voice reduced carefully. "If that’s what you’re thinking, you don’t.” 

“You’re right, I don’t need him."

“So then-”

“But I also don’t need anyone to make decisions for me...you told me that Gwaine. I’m not angry with you, I could never be angry with you. I know you think you’re protecting me, but I can’t remember the last time I’ve followed my heart, the last time I've done something for myself.”

“The heart is traitorous. If you follow it you’ll end up staying here. You’ll be miserable.”

“You don’t know that. don’t know that.”

“Merlin... Just come back with me, we could keep living there. Forget about him, forget about this kingdom. Your duty here is done...it’s _been_ done. Let’s start over, why don’t _we_ try? We could be together, live peacefully amongst the Druids. I’ll help you forget about all this.”

 _Be together? As in-_ "Gwaine, what are you-”

“You know I adore you. Why shouldn’t we try a hand at _us_?”

Merlin’s stomach sinks, gripping at the table behind him to prevent his legs from giving in. _They had never spoken of such a thing._ Gwaine had always been...well Gwaine. Even with the Druids, he’d often disappear, finding a new woman or two to bed. Never committing to one. Merlin hadn’t thought of it as a possibility, they had never _even_ discussed the idea. 

“Almost two years...and you tell me this now. I didn’t know you -- I thought that-” His words fail him terribly, reducing him to a spluttering mess. 

“How was I supposed to say anything before?" Gwaine sighs, running a hand through his disheveled hair, "He’s all you think about. I know it, Morgana knows it, the elders know it. You had walked away from him, but you never really left. Sneaking out at night to make sure he was safe. We all noticed.”

“I couldn’t just...abandon him -- the kingdom. It’s destiny.”

“Merlin, I’m not an idiot. We both know your feelings for him are far past damn destiny. Listen to me, the truth might hurt but you need to hear it. There is no future for you with him. Even if it was possible for you to be together, do you want to be resigned to life as his secret bedwarmer? He has to get married, he has to have an heir. He won’t be able to give you what you deserve. You’ll never be truly happy with him.”

Merlin aches as the words stab through the air. It's all things he’s known, truths he had thought he accepted years ago. He had been a stupid teenager madly in love with his prince, religiously reminding himself that love, let alone friendship wasn't possible for them. But he had also just been a servant boy with too much hope...now reduced to _this._

“He won't love you, Merlin.”

 _Only hours ago Arthur had claimed quite the opposite._ Confusion was overwhelming him entirely.

“And you do?" he whispers quietly, "Do you...love me?”

“Of course.” 

“The way that Guinevere and Lancelot love each other?”

“We...can get to that point. I -- you’re my best friend. I’d die for you, you know that.”

“As would I. Without a thought. But I’m not sure we can do that...I’m not sure _I can_.”

“We won’t know unless we try.” 

“You like taverns and wooing women and I don’t know what I like, I don’t know much about myself at all. I can’t make you promises. I won’t do that to you, it’s just not fair.” 

“I know you." Gwaine insists, "You’re kind, you're selfless, you protect people and you’re a leader, clumsiness and all. What else is there to know?”

“Am I all those things? Or is that what everyone wants me to be?”

“You are. Merlin look at everything you’ve accomplished. You’re amazing.”

“I don’t think I’m amazing or kind...”

“Of course you are," Gwaine interrupts, "What are you talking about?”

“No...I’m not." Merlin tries, burying his face into his hands. "The truth is sometimes I get so angry I can’t even think and I want to scream and shout and say no, but I don’t. I just keep agreeing, I keep lying to everyone, that’s not amazing.”

“You’re human Merls. You’re going to doubt yourself sometimes.”

“But it’s not just sometimes... I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

_Because it hurts more than he can even put into words._

“So why would you even consider coming back here? The root of all your problems?”

_Was it? Was this where everything went wrong?_

“I’m not saying I will...I just need some time.”

“That's selfish Merlin. You’re not like this.”

_He hasn't been selfish, has he?_

“Because I’ve never been given the opportunity to be.”

Gwaine remains quiet, eyes glued to the ground.

“I know you’re not happy with me,” Merlin whispers softly, the foreign discomfort between them, only building the pressure in his chest, "But just give me some time...please."

The former knight sighs, frustration written in his face clear as day, “I won’t lie and say that I am, but I don’t think I’ve been very fair to you either. I don’t want you to get hurt again. Think about it...actually think about the consequences. You’ll lose a lot if you stay here.” 

_But would it be worth it? Could he be happy?_

Gwaine stands and Merlin is sure he'll leave without another word but he stills as he reaches the door turning to him with a weak smile, “Get some rest, leave the treaties for another day, alright?”

“Yeah,” he agrees noncommittally, knowing sleep is no longer an option for him.

“I’m serious Merls...sleep.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, pushing himself to a stand. 

Gwaine begins to open the door, freezing halfway to turn slowly, a sheepish grin overtaking his grim expression. “Can you...uh... fix my nose?”

Merlin fakes a smile as he casts the spell.

* * *

He has to force himself to go to the next council meetings. Panic filling him at the idea of seeing the king. 

Merlin hates it, hates everything they’ve become, but he had made promises...Promised the Druids, promised Morgana...coming here alone had taken more convincing than he could muster. They had questioned his loyalty, his commitment to them.

_Why did everyone do that?_

He pretends not to notice Arthur’s absence as they begin, he pretends that he listens and that he isn’t on the verge of another breakdown. He’s done a lot of pretending lately, the line between what he feels and what he doesn’t have blurred considerably, so much so he has no idea where he stands. 

“Lord Emrys?” A council member inquires, pulling him from his thoughts. 

_Oh yes, he was supposed to be working._

“My apologies, would you repeat that for me?”

* * *

It's been three days since he's seen Arthur. A victory. At least that’s what Gwaine calls the sudden absence. 

Merlin's intently staring at blank paper when there’s a knock at his door. He barely manages to hold back a frustrated groan at the interruption. Although Gwaine hadn’t directly restarted the previous days’ conversation, he knew his friend was attempting to coerce an answer from him, constantly hinting at returning to the Druids and all that had to be done when they arrived.

It led him to dread every moment they shared together, fearful that questions would come before he had the answers...and everything led him back to square one. Lost, confused, and aching. 

“Come in," He calls, albeit hesitantly. 

“Hello!”

Merlin lets out an involuntary breath as the woman steps in with a beaming smile, forcing a matching one into his own face, “Guinevere! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“May I sit?” She inquires, nodding at the armchair beside him. 

“Please do.”

“How are you doing. Merlin?” 

“Lovely and yourself? I believe there’s a certain wedding that should be getting planned.” He shoots a smile that he prays reaches his eyes because _he is happy_ for them, but his face just doesn’t seem to relay the message he wants nowadays. 

“Yes, yes! Two months from now, we’ll wed!”

“How lovely Gwen, I’m truly happy for you.”

“Thank you! I do hope you can attend, but that’s talk for another time. I’ve come to ask you a few questions if you have the time?”

“Of course, is it about laws or-”

“Merlin,” Her voice interrupts, suddenly strong and serious, “How are you doing?”

He blinks at her, letting out a weak laugh. The question alone burns at his very being. “Are you being overworked Gwen, you’ve just asked me that! You’re far too young to have gone senile!”

_Deflect all he could do is deflect._

“You didn’t answer me honestly the first time.”

He takes a sharp breathe at the remark, clenching his fist to try and prevent the emotions from rushing through him. 

“You look miserable, darling. I have never seen you so pale.”

“I’m just tired," he lies horribly, " Maybe I’m the one who’s been overworked, eh?” He’s trying desperately to hide, two outbursts were enough in the span of less than a week, another one would surely categorize him as mad. 

His method is terribly unsuccessful and she sees right through him, eyes holding a deep concern as he avoids meeting her gaze. “Merlin, are you happy?”

 _Oh...No one’s ever asked him that before._ _Is **he** happy? _

“I don’t...I don’t know.”

“I think that’s an answer in itself." Gwen caresses his face with a smooth hand, carefully outlining his cheekbones “You can tell me everything. You don’t have to hold it in.”

All common sense leaves him as the tears return in a thick, steady stream, spilling over despite his previous desperation to keep them hidden. 

“Merlin, please talk to me.”

And he’s not strong enough to stay quiet. So he does.

He tells her how he never wanted to leave Camelot in the first place. How hard helping Morgana had been, how he was tired of all the expectations, how lost he was, how exhausted, how Gwaine wanted him to come back, how the Elders wanted him to become Druid King, how everyone questioned him and his very existence.

He tells her every thought and emotion he’s felt in the last two years, every forced smile he had put on. He tells it all until he can no longer physically sob and she only holds him, whispering comforting words into his ear. 

For the first time in a long time, he feels human. 

* * *

“Merlin-” She whispers softly, still stroking his hair... _had it been minutes...hours?_ “You’re too focused on pleasing people and you’re hurting yourself. You don’t need to have all this pressure on your shoulders. You can’t help anyone if you aren’t okay, start living for yourself. Be selfish...just for once, do what _you_ want.”

“But I don’t know what I want. What do I do then? When if I have no idea, Gwen?”

“Go find out. Take time to find yourself."

“I’m going to let so many people down," he whimpers pathetically into her shoulder. 

“Look at me. Whatever you decide people will be disappointed. If they're angry at you for trying to find yourself, I'm not sure that's people you need in your life. It's more important that you're okay...that you're happy. You deserve this Merlin...you **need** this."

* * *

“One more day and we’re out of this fucking kingdom!”

Merlin watches his companion prance around the room, packing his clothes in earnest. 

“You’ve finished the treaties?”

“Yeah.”

Gwaine glances up at him, quirking an eyebrow at his tone, “What’s on your mind?”

Only a beat of silence passes before Merlin blurts out a reckless response, “I’m not going with you.” _Well, that’s hardly what he and Gwen had spent the night practicing._

Tense silence fills the room as the former knight freezes. “What?”

“I...uh...want you to take the treaties back with you, can you do that for me?”

“Merlin.”

"I'm sorry," he whispers. _because he's not sure what else he can say when his old friend looks so hurt._

“You’re...staying here?"

“No.”

“Then what the hell are you talking about?”

“I just need a break...away from everything.”

Gwaine laughs, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Well, then that's fine. When will you be coming back?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“But you are coming back...aren’t you?”

“I'm not sure," Merlin sighs. That's what the whole point of getting away was, he didn't have the answers yet.

Gwaine grits his teeth, anger evident as he speaks.“So what _do_ you know then? What about the Druids? What about everything we’ve been working for?”

“Everything they need is in the treaties. I’ll never abandon them, you know that. The elders know how to reach me if anything goes wrong...but Morgana’s there, they’re stronger than ever. They’re finally prospering. They don’t need me anymore.”

“And Morgana? And me?”

Merlin feels his heart crack. “I'm not saying I'll never see you both again. Of course, I will. Gwaine...you mean so much to me. I thought about what you said. About you. But I can’t live in hopes of pleasing you. You won’t be happy with me if I decide anything other than returning to the Druids and I just can’t promise you that. Even if I do return, we can’t force ourselves into a relationship just because we have love for one another. That’s not right. I want you to be happy.. _._ **I** want to be happy as well.” 

His friend remains quiet for a minute, taking his time to respond.“You’re making a mistake,” he returns, voice quiet and cold. 

“Maybe,” Merlin croaks roughly, refusing to look up at the man. 

And his heart aches because he _does_ love Gwaine...but they aren't _in love_ and Merlin almost wishes they were. 

The silence is unbearable, sitting uncomfortably between them. He flinches as a calloused hand grips his shoulder before relief fills him at the whisper into his ear, “I hope you find what you’re looking for Merls, I really do.”

“Thank you, Gwaine," he breathes, letting himself be pulled into an embrace. 

* * *

Merlin does decently well at avoiding the voice that begs him to barge into the king’s chambers and bid him a proper farewell. 

_Did Arthur even know he was still in Camelot?_ _He probably thought Merlin had left alongside Gwaine._

The king hadn't gone to wish Gwaine a farewell when he departed, sending Leon in his stead, claiming he was in a crucial meeting. Merlin attempted to not overthink it. _He knew it was a lie after all._

He hugs the physician for the millionth time, letting his head bury into the older man’s shoulder.

“I am so proud of you, my boy."

“Thank you Gauis, truly.”

Lancelot offers to accompany him on his trip, but he graciously denies it, wrapping the couple in warm hugs and promises to visit.

When he finally mounts his horse, he waves one last goodbye to his friends. 

He wants to say goodbye to Arthur. 

He wants to not leave on such horrid terms. 

He wants _so much._

But Merlin couldn’t afford to stay.

Not now...not in this state. Not when he couldn’t be fair. 

He sets off with a sliver of hope for a future...one of his own.

* * *

“Who is it?” Her warm voice fills him as he makes out her approaching footsteps from the other side of the worn door. 

Merlin can’t find the words to respond, his heart pounding faster as the door cracks open, and her pale face peeks out, eyes widening larger as she recognizes him. She swings the barrier open, giving him a proper up and down as if inspecting him. 

_Had he grown or had she shrunk?_ _She looked older, beautiful as always, but undeniably older._ It's been years.. _.gods, so long._

“I-I know its been a long time but I just really missed you and I hope it's okay if I-” His words are cut as she pulls him into a tight embrace, her tears soaking his tunic as she weeps. 

_Horrible, he’s been horrible to her._ _How had he gotten so lost?_ No visits, no letters. He doesn't deserve her tears. 

“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispers holding tighter, “I’m so sorry mum.” 

In her arms, he feels like the child he so desperately wishes he still was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapters much longer than I intended, but I thought it was important to get Merlin's POV and how he feels about everything going on, because I often forget when I'm writing that the reader can't just read my mind and I have this whole dynamic in my head that just isn't relayed. whoops lmao
> 
> Alright so now I'm going to be honest I'm really iffy about continuing this fic. I like the concept or whatnot but I began it on a whim and without a set plot so I'm more annoyed with myself than anything. I don't know I guess I'll just see what happens, but I'm feeling real blah about it.


	12. Chapter 12

Arthur had watched from a distance as Merlin left Camelot.

Maybe if he were a braver man he would have been able to send the warlock off with warm wishes and promises to speak again like a proper king. But he wasn’t that brave, not regarding affairs of the heart, he hadn’t even been able to face Merlin during his last days in the kingdom, going as far as to miss the final council meetings.

He knew that by doing so he risked a potential alliance with the Druids _Had he been selfish with his decision? Probably._ _Did he care? Not really._ Because the truth of the matter was that he hadn’t regretted telling Merlin how he truly felt. It had been a weight lifted from his heavy heart, a confession he would have regretted withholding if he had kept it stored away. 

But with relief, came painful realizations: They hadn't been inseparable like he once thought. 

Arthur had spent four years taking advantage of Merlin when the younger man had been his most loyal friend, servant, and protector. 

He had been sure that Merlin would be with him through everything. Through cups thrown, insults hurled, battles won, battles lost. He had never pictured a life without his manservant, never savored their moments together. Even after the warlock had left he had held on to the same mindset.The selfish expectation that Merlin would always be his...that he would always come back. 

But Merlin had _never_ been his. 

He contemplated many things when he watched the man he loved leave for the final time. Millions of unanswered questions and regret filling him. He had plenty in whom he could confide...Guinevere, Lancelot, Leon, or Gauis. In fact, even the serving women would be willing to listen. They would no doubt console him and give kind advice and care, but he had long exhausted those options, he had shown weakness unbefitting of a king one time too many and he vowed he would maintain those feelings stored away. 

It was not until he sat in front of his father’s grave days after Merlin's departure, that he allowed himself to feel...praying for guidance and answers. 

There were no answers, of course. _Uther was dead._ Not that his living father would have given helpful advice anyway. But he sat and spoke for hours nevertheless, pretending he had a father willing to listen. 

The sun set and the moon rose as he continued. A mixture of tears and laughs as he spoke of the war, his uncertainty as king, Morgana, Merlin, the men he had lost. 

And when the sun reigned once more the king knew what had to be done. 

* * *

“East Anglia and Camelot have a withstanding history of conflict caused by the prior difference of opinions on magic and its role in a kingdom. Yet, with the dawn of your successful reign and lift on the ban of sorcery I see a powerful alliance in our future. To solidify what I hope will be the start of a new age I offer to you my eldest daughter, Clarine. It would be our kingdom’s great honor if you would accept her as your wife and Queen of Camelot-”

Leon pauses his reading to glance at him, lips pressed into a thin line, “Sire-”

“Continue," Arthur demands. 

The knight hesitant, but ever so obedient proceeds, face grim as he does. “Both Clarine and I are eagerly awaiting your response. Best wishes and I pray that we can further discuss our future in-person. Signed King Tor of East Anglia.” 

The room falls into an eery silence for far longer than comfortable before a younger noble is brave enough to speak, “Your highness, if I may?”

Arthur only nods, prepared for the onslaught of opinions. 

“The point of alliance marriages is to strengthen Camelot, yet, I believe what we will gain is not worth such a wedding. We can solidify an alliance with Anglia without doing so. I mean no disrespect but you are of an age where you no longer need to marry for such a reason, do you not wish to wed for your own will"

“Absolutely not!" An elder member sneers from across the table. 

The king had allowed two of his father’s men to remain in the council in an attempt to ease the removal of the other seven and despite the overwhelming opposition to the old ways, Helsin the eldest of the two remained unwavering in his beliefs. _Especially those of marriage._

“Have you gone mad? A king of his power can not remain unwed. He has gone far too long without a Queen, people will begin to ask if he is unable to produce an heir and question his true nature. Your majesty,” Helsin meets his gaze, eyes stong and stern, "You must get married.”

 _Wed. Produce an heir._ His duty as king. One that he had put off for far too long.

“Very well.”

Several members around the table tense, Guinevere's gasp loud and startled at his words. “But, my lord-” 

“I will review the remaining offers and choose a princess who will best benefit Camelot. You are **all** dismissed for the day.”

The room empties hesitantly, several members lingering with evident questions but none brave enough to speak, eventually leaving alongside the others.

“Arthur,” Leon begins once they are the only two who remain. “You haven’t spoken of marriage in years. Are you certain that is what you wish for?”

 _He wasn't certain._ Not at all. In fact, he could hardly picture himself married, but his wants and selfishness had never led to positive ends...and for that, he knew he must act accordingly. “It will benefit the kingdom and it is my duty as King.”

“Indeed, but, Camelot’s been extremely successful of late. We’ve overcome a war, brought back magic to the land. We are hardly desperate for an alliance of such." 

“The kingdom Princess Clarine comes from has practiced magic for ages. They are knowledgeable in the subject and can be of great assistance to us. We have not been able to successfully incorporate magic into the court and our marriage and alliance will surely be beneficial to the cause."

“Yes, but...would you be happy, my lord?” 

_Probably not._

"I would."

He knows it doesn't sound as nearly convincing as it should, but his knight bows nevertheless, unwilling to question him further. 

“Then I will support you wholeheartedly.” 

“Thank you, Leon.”

* * *

“Sire, may I speak to you?”

To his surprise, there's no slamming of doors or furious faces as she speaks. The typical anger that burns when she's cross with him dwindled down as she kindly curtsies. 

“What may I help you with, Guinevere?”

She wrings her hands nervously, completely out of character, as she speaks, "Are you...genuinely considering marrying for the sake of the kingdom? I thought you wanted to marry for love. You don’t have to live miserably for Camelot to thrive Arthur." 

“I will not be miserable, there are dozens of lovely women who-”

“But you don’t love them. You love Merlin." The ache is undeniable at the mere mention of the man's name, but he remains firm with his decision, simply lowering his quill as he responds, 

“Guinevere, enough. Merlin returned to the Druids and I have a duty to my kingdom. He and I are neither friends nor acquaintances. I respect him, that is all.” 

“That’s not true, you don’t mean that Arthur and you know it. He cares for you as well, he's just-"

Arthur couldn’t dwell on the false hope that continuously brewed within him. As pure-hearted as she was, there were simply certain situations that even Guinevere couldn't fix.

“We will not discuss this topic further, do you understand me? Merlin has left regardless and I can not sit here and hope that one day he’ll return. I have to be the king Camelot needs. I have to make decisions I know will best benefit my kingdom and that is not spending the rest of my life chasing after a man who doesn’t want me-”

“- _I love him_ and I will always love him. Merlin has given me everything, he is the very reason I breathe today, but he kept me alive so that I could be a great leader and for that, I owe him this. I will work to be a king that he would be proud of...that I will be proud of. That is my only goal now. There’s nothing left to fight for.” 

“But what if he returns?" She attempts, and the desperation in her voice is evident, as if she's pleading. 

_Gwen had always been so eager to help, always the optimist._

“I can no longer hold on to that hope. I must only look forward to the success of the future.”

“And is that what you want?"

Arthur sighs, shaking his head as he takes another swig from his chalice. “No, originally it wasn't. But it's what I have now and I plan to do my best.” 

Guinevere remains quiet, and the sadness in her expression is poorly hidden as she refuses his gaze. "You're already doing amazing Arth-"

“I am pleased to hear, I intend to invite both Clarine and the king to Camelot.”

Guinevere bows respectfully, a sad smile looming and he knows she wishes to continue the conversation, tell him that he's being an idiot. But he's beyond grateful when she doesn't, because he isn't certain he could deny the fantasy of a life with Merlin that she was likely to mention. “Very well, my lord. Have a good night.” 

Arthur nods in return, reclining in his chair as he listens to the rainfall.

Snow was likely to follow. _..Merlin had always hated the cold._

He lets out a deep breath, hoping to ease the pressure in his chest as he grabs his quill and continues his interrupted task. 

_"It would be my greatest pleasure to accept your proposal-_

* * *

“Mum, how do I make a decision I won't come to regret?"

She lets out a kind laugh as she continues cooking stirring the contents within the large pot. The old, yet familiar sight bringing a tinge of happiness to his troubled heart.

His mother had spent the last three months as kind and welcoming as he remembered from his childhood and each passing day reminded him why he had missed her so terribly. She was wise and brave, far more than he had ever been. 

“Merlin...there are no guarantees in life. When your father left, I didn’t know what to do. I wanted so badly to chase after him, but I also wanted to keep you safe. I was torn, I felt as if I had all these obligations and I was being forced to label one as more important than the other. It went on like that for ages...but I realized no matter where or what I have gone through, keeping you safe was always on my mind. I could be doing the most mundane of things and my mind always went back to you and I knew that no matter where the future took me or how far apart we are, the one role I would always want is that of your mother. In the end, I had to lose something, but I **never** regretted my decision because I had you.” 

He feels the familiar ache of his eyes as he watches her work, sat on a small stool opposite of her. 

She continues on despite his silence, “ Who do you feel that way about? Who do you see when you think of your future?”

“You.”

“I know darling, but you know that's not what I mean.”

They both know his answer, she’s known his answer since the first time Arthur and he had visited Ealdor... since she had given him that speech. 

Gwaine had been right, his mother had been right, Gauis had been right. His feelings for Arthur had always been far more than destiny and with that destiny being accomplished there was a lingering terror that he would no longer be useful to the king. Unreasonable as it was, he had no control of the negative thoughts that made him question his very being. 

But one thing never changed. It had always been Arthur...destiny or not. Arthur had found his way into Merlin's heart ages ago and despite being surrounded by people that abhorred the man, he couldn't stop. Merlin couldn't lie to himself any longer. 

“It’s always been him. But we can’t...even if I want to. No one wants us to be together...I just can’t-”

“Merlin, how do you know that? You’ve not even given it a chance.”

“Because he’s the king. Because I’ve been unfair to him. Because I ran like a coward and I just keep running. How could I ever possibly return? I don’t even know how-”

“You don’t have to know everything. You don’t have to think about ten years in the future. He loves you Merlin and he’s shown you that he’s changed. You’re building problems that aren’t even there yet.”

“But what about-”

“ _Enough."_ She commands, "Do you still love him?”

“I-yes...Of course. I...don’t know if I could ever stop.”

“Then what do you want to be to him? Do you want to continue running and lying? Or would you rather face it, like you've done all the other obstacles you've encountered?"

“I do, I really do, but he's a king, he has a duty to-"

“And you’re the most powerful sorcerer on the planet, what’s your point, Merlin? You might get hurt, you might decide to return to the Druids, or realize that you’re unhappy. But what if it's not any of that, what if you two live the rest of your lives together, happy and content? If that's even the slightest possibility, why would you avoid it?"

_Because he was scared, terribly so._

“What if he doesn’t want me anymore?" He whispers.

“Then you come back home and I’ll cook you a grand meal and after a couple of weeks, you’ll get your arse up and move on to the next stage of your life. You’ve already conquered so much, you’ve loved and lost before Merlin.”

“But he’s different. Arthurs...everything to me.”

“Then that’s just another reason you shouldn’t let him go."

“Isn’t it a reason I should? I love him but, I can’t give him what he needs to be a successful king.”

"You can give him more. You're magic itself, you're love and compassion and kindness. Arthur will never be able to find such traits in another."

Merlin lays his head on his arms, watching her move through the kitchen, “You think I should return...don't you?"

She smiles softly, shaking her head fondly, "I think you should listen to your heart Merlin."

"Is it that easy? To just follow what I feel?"

“No. Not at all. But it’s worth it in the end because at least you tried.”

His mum finally abandons the steaming pot, making her way over to embrace him warmly. “It’s scary Merlin, it’ll always be scary to make a decision like this, but it is just another trial from the gods, they know your strengths."

"I hate the gods," he mumbles belligerently. 

"Watch your tongue," She snaps, swatting him lightly, "You'll end up cursed." 

"As if I'm not already."

"You're in a difficult situation, not cursed darling."

“Mum," he groans, a sudden realization sinking uncomfortably in his core, "He told me that he loved me and I ran away. That's horrible of me.”

“Well, what do you wish you would have done instead?”

 _So many things._ _He could've kissed Arthur, held him, wiped the pained expression from the face of the man he loved. But he hadn't._ “I wish I would have told him how I really felt. I wish I would have listened to my heart.”

“And?” She presses, fixing him with an incredulous stare. 

“I think most of all I wish I would have stayed, I wish I would have never walked away in the first place.”

_And oh...that felt right. After so long of hearing that Camelot was no place for him...that he had made the right decision. Allowing his heart to speak just felt **right.**_

“I think you have your answer, sweetheart.”

Merlin tightens their embrace, a strange relief filling him as he smiles. “Yeah, mum...I think I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, sorry lol. I really had to force myself to write this. 
> 
> Anywho as you can tell, I'm hoping we can wrap this story up soon and I appreciate all the amazing comments and love this fic has received, the Merlin fandom is so amazing and this might be my last merthur fic for a while but I am still just so happy to see the engagement when I had thought the fandom was dying. I WAS WRONG obviously tehe! 
> 
> Hope you all had a great break/holidays <3 and hopefully, this new year treats us kinder than the last!


	13. Chapter 13

It’s hard writing a marriage acceptance letter when you don't actually want to participate in said marriage. Arthur had hopelessly stared at paper for the past few weeks, contemplating each and every word, crumpling and rewriting over and over again. He knew that he could say just about anything and have it be considered a literary masterpiece, but it felt horribly _wrong_. Like it was just another mandatory treaty or law, and in some sense it was, but it was also an irreversible fate tying him to a woman he had never met. 

What if she didn’t want him? Or worse yet, what if she did? What if she was great and beautiful and kind but he just couldn’t love her, not like he loved _him._

 _He just had to write the letter and get it over with._ Sending it would be the start of a new life once and for all, a chance at something different. 

_Something that wasn’t Mer-_

Arthur slams his quill down, shaking his head free of traitorous thoughts for the millionth time that day, rubbing angrily at irritated eyes. 

“My lord, may I enter?” A voice calls from outside his chambers. 

**_Fuck no,_ ** Is _what_ he wants to shout, along with a million other explicit and unfair words but he bites his tongue, forcing out a reluctant agreement instead. 

Leon startles the moment he enters, staring in terror at the scene before him. Crumbled paper surrounds the king, hair sticking out wildly with angry dark circles and bloodshot eyes, a murderous expression to match. 

“Um, sire...what are you-”

“Writing,” Arthur snaps, waving his hands at the obvious evidence, “I’m still bloody writing, Leon.”

“The letter to King Tor?” His knight questions incredulously, “Arthur you told the council you’d send for their visit two weeks ago.”

“I know, I know, I’ve just been _busy._ ”

“Busy,” Leon echos skeptically.

Arthur shoots a glare that demands his lack of busyness not be discussed. 

“Well, then why don’t you have a servant write it?”

 _Because I don’t want to get fucking married._ An involuntary groan leaves him at the thought, banging his head into the table with a mutter, “It's my marriage, therefore I must be the one who accepts it." _And yes, that was a damn lie._ He could have whoever the hell he'd like write the letter, but he knew it would be accomplished in mere hours and that was far too soon for his liking.

Leon thankfully does not point out his obvious lies, patting his back comfortingly, “Why don’t you take a break? The men and I are going to the tavern, surely you can accompany us for a while?”

“I don’t have time,” he murmurs, _despite having absolutely zero commitments for the night._

“Arthur, you should really get out of your room. You’ve been stuck between here and meetings. When's the last time you’ve taken a break?”

“I’m the king Leon, I don’t get breaks and I definitely can’t be seen gallivanting in places like the tavern. Imagine what the citizens would think.”

“With all due respect, I think that’s why you should go. The people want to see their king be human. Relating to your citizens is important, especially before such an important marriage. A few rounds at the tavern, that’s all and I’ll ensure the men behave.”

Arthur begins to decline once more but his gaze finds the most recent attempt at the letter. He carefully scans the paper, rereading for errors, and is filled with disappointment when he finds none. _It was perfect...and it was complete._

How hadn’t he noticed? In fact, how many other times had he finished, but ripped it in fear of what its completion meant? He knew he was being a coward, finding excuses that wouldn’t hold forever. 

Arthur sucks in air as he snatches his quill and signs his name, ignoring every objection his heart throws his way. _Done. It was finally done._ He’d send the letter off in the morning and start a new life for the sake of his kingdom. He'd be a coward no more. 

_A few numbing drinks didn't sound half bad._

“Well then," He stands with false confidence as he addresses his knight, “I've actually just finished, l guess I can accompany you for a short while.”

“Lovely, then tonight we shall cheer to marriage!” Leons beams brightly. 

_Gods, please don’t._

* * *

Ever since Gwaine had left tavern visits had been relatively tame. The knights still made jokes and chirped at one another, but there were no more bar fights or drinking games and they rarely ever got drunk. Therefore, Leon anticipated a simple night with the king finally joining them for the first time since he had been crowned. The head knight had even warned the other three men to behave accordingly. He wanted to ensure Arthur was finally able to relax after months of non-stop work. His plan had been impenetrable. Or...h _e had thought._

_Little did he know that it was not the knights he had to worry about._

The night had begun well enough with idle chat and small glasses of mead. Arthur appeared pleased, laughing at their bickering and joining in on their teasing. Leon mentally celebrated the victory as the king seemingly left behind his troubles.

He learned quickly that he had celebrated far too early, for things went downhill quicker than he could have ever imagined, his fellow knight's, deciding talk of love was appropriate for the occasion. 

_What idiots, honestly._

Percival began by speaking excitedly about his next visit to Gwaine, in which the king immediately gagged, drowning his disgust with a bottle that had mysteriously appeared. Leon attempted recovery by redirecting the conversation to Elyan who **of course,** felt the need to discuss his relationship with the lovely town baker. Arthur proceeded to down three more cups as the knight described their perfect picnics and fairytale dates full of fantastic bread. 

Lancelot was the icing on the bloody cake, trying to brighten Arthur’s souring mood by exclaiming the wonders of marriage and how the king would love life as a husband. The blonde nearly turnt green, forcing Leon to kick the beaming knight, but the damage was irreversible

“I’m going to be a husband…” Arthur grumbles quietly, sipping miserably at another mead. 

_Where the hell did he get that glass from?_ Leon had attempted to stop the king’s drinking parade five rounds earlier and in some magical way, cups of varying alcohol continued appearing before the man. 

“Yes and I'm certain the wedding will be lovely!” Lancelot declares, ignorant to Arthur’s clear disgust. 

_How could one man be so blind?_

“Me...a husband.” The king repeats softly, running a shaking hand through his disheveled hair.

“Isn't it-”

Arthur stands suddenly, chugging the rest of his drink and slamming the cup onto the table with a raged shout, “I’m marrying a woman I don’t even know!” The tavern falls quiet as its occupants turned to the king in bewilderment. 

“My lovely citizens of Camelot!” The blonde stalks towards the center of the room, pushing a man from his stool to stand atop it proudly.

The knights are up in an instant, weaving through the forming crowd to reach the king.

“Arthur _please_ get down," he whispers desperately, tugging at the royal's sleeve, “You can’t-”

“Do not attempt to silence me, Leon! I am addressing my people! Everyone listen here, I am getting married!”

All three knights curse at the impromptu announcement, their arguments overpowered with the tavern's loud hoots and cheers of celebration.

"A free round for everyone in celebration!"

_The council was going to hate them._

“Yes, yes! Exciting is it?” The drunken king shouts above the cheers, his face clearly indicating otherwise, “It’s so exciting, even though I’m marrying some woman I don’t even fucking know! Truth be told I don’t even want-”

_Goodbye knighthood._

Percival acts quickly hauling Arthur over his shoulder and making his way towards the door while Leon glares at the stunned audience, “Speaking of this incident is a breach of the king’s privacy. Forget what you have heard tonight.” 

“Fuck marriage!” Arthur yells from across the room, eliciting another round of horrified gasps. 

_They were going to be properly executed._

Leon thanks the gods when Percival finally manages to escape the building, Arthur’s shouting no longer the main attraction for the tavern as they step out into the night. 

“I don’t know her," The king continues, unbeknownst-or uncaring to the problems he had just created, "What if she hates me? What if she doesn’t have short black hair and blue eyes? She probably won’t call me rude names or-”

_Who had thought bringing Arthur to the tavern was a good idea?_ _Ah yes, it had been himself, hadn't it? Maybe he should just resign his knighthood before the council demanded it._

“Isn’t he just describing Merlin?” Lancelot whispers curiously.

The whisper isn’t nearly quiet enough, the old manservant’s name sending Arthur into another round of shouting, as he bangs at Percivals back, “Bring me Merlin! Where is he?! Lancelot stop hiding him, I demand you bring him to me, you bloody imbecile! I swear I’l-”

“Arthur,” Leon pleads desperate to avoid a more gruesome execution, “Merlin isn’t here right now and you’ve got to quiet down or we’ll get in trouble.”

The king's face instantly falls, foreign sadness overcoming his expression. “Will they get mad at me?”

“No one’s mad at you,” Elyan ensures, holding back laughter at the man's deepening pout. 

“That’s not true,” Arthur whispers quietly, having given up on escaping Percival’s grasp, “Merlin’s mad at me, he ran away from me.”

The knights fall into uncomfortable silence at the sudden confession. It’s not that they hadn't known the king harbored feelings for the Warlock, it’s only that the recent events hadn’t been discussed, an unspoken agreement to not mention the turmoil that the two men faced. Leon had heard bits from Guinevere's chatter but even then she had been hesitant to speak of the pair and if Gwen was quiet then he was certain that the issue between Arthur and Merlin went much further than their prior disagreement on magic. 

Leon was left in the dark in the matter and although he never pushed, he ached knowing that his oldest friend lost the man that had meant the most to him. He wondered if he'd ever know how a pair so inseparable had become strangers?

Arthur had thankfully dozed off draped across the large knight, his prior shouting decreased to soft snores as Lancelot and Elyan whispered their goodnights, leaving Percival and Leon to care for the king. Percival is just as quick to disappear when they arrive in the royal chambers. The king sleepily awakes, demanding Leon help him undress as he stumbles. 

He has half a thought to remind the king he isn't a servant, but the man is beyond understanding and Leon is ever so loyal to his friend, struggling to strip the sluggish form. Trying to dress the king on the other hand is a complete failure when Arthur grunts and disappears under his mound of blankets in only his undergarments. 

_Leons' beyond grateful he hadn't had to see a nude king._ “I’ll be leaving now if that’s all, your highness.”

Arthur's head peeks out from under the pile atop him, a deep frown resting on his face, “I’m unhappy,” he whispers quietly.

Leon can’t help but ache as he takes in the sight of his friend’s teary eyes. _If only a sober Arthur would understand that marriage wasn’t the answer to heartache. That the heart was a fragile thing...love couldn't be replaced. Not like this._

“Why?” He questions, returning to the king's side.

“I’m not sure I can make someone happy, not as a husband at least. I’m not a very good man.”

“That’s not true Arthur, you’re a great man.”

“Do you say that because I’m your king?” 

“No," He insists firmly, "I say that because you are my friend. There is no other man I’d serve before you.” _And it's the wholehearted truth. Arthur had proven himself worthy a million times over._

He considers it a victory when the king smiles, eyes shut and words slurred, “You are like the brother I always wanted Leon. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Don’t tell the others but you’ve always been my favorite.”

Leon can’t help but laugh at the man's affection, a clear indication of his drunkenness. Yet, he feels pride nevertheless, knowing that a sober Arthur felt the same. “Of course, it’ll be our secret. Sleep well, sire.”

Loud snores are his only response and Leon is left chuckling to himself as he makes his way to the door, his joy short-lived as he passes the marriage acceptance that lies on the king's desk, the darkest part in him insisting that he rip it to shreds. But he knows it won't work...everyone who knows Arthur had realized they could meddle no more. There was only one person who could change Arthur's mind and he had left long ago. 

_What a shame things had turned out this way._

* * *

Arthur wants to die. 

He had been stabbed, shot, burnt, hit, thrown into a tree, and still, the bloody headache he harbored was the worse thing he had ever experienced. His head throbbed the moment he woke and it only took a few seconds before he was leaning over the bed, retching onto the floor. 

“Oh, gods.” 

Arthur weakly raises his head to face a pale servant, who looks as sick as he feels. “Uh...I’m going to get Gauis, I think you’ve been poisoned.”

If he were in his right mind he’d likely snark a comment about the servant's stupidity, but he only plops his head back onto the pillow, pressing his hands to his head in an attempt to ease his pains.

As promised Gauis enters minutes later, followed by a fuming Guinevere. _Just when he had thought she had begun to respect him._

“Who the hell took you drinking when you were brooding?!”

“Shhhh-” He groans at the ringing in his ears, “Ask your bloody husband.”

“That idiot! He promised me he wouldn’t!” She sneers, disappearing into the halls with an infamous door slam. 

Gaius heaves a long sigh, forcing him up, pinching his nose, and shoving a mix of horrid portions into his mouth that makes him gag all the more. 

_What a lovely man._

“You announced your wedding to the tavern yesterday, the council-- Helsin specifically is not happy with you. They believe it went against tradition and royal formality.”

“Fuck them,” He mutters angrily, voice muffled by the pillow he had once more shoved his face into, “What’s the difference between shouting the announcement at a tavern then from a balcony? Everyone would’ve found out anyway. Helsin’s an old hag.”

Gauis fails horribly at hiding his snort, “Shall I relay that message to the council, sire?” 

He has half a mind to say yes and become an extreme tyrant but only grumbles louder into his pillow, “Why does everyone care so much about the wedding?” 

“You don’t?” The physician inquires curiously. 

“It’s just some stupid ceremony.”

“Surely you don’t believe that Arthur, you wouldn’t be so angry about getting married if you did.”

Arthur can’t find it within himself to respond, especially when he knows the old man is right.

“You should be fine in an hour, eat all your breakfast and come find me if your headache continues.”

He mumbles a thanks as the old man leaves, abandoning him with his throbbing thoughts. Arthur stares at the letter atop his table, signed and ready to be sent.

Today was the day. 

* * *

Morning isn't proper time to send the letter he concludes. 

He’s first very occupied with the crucial task of eating his breakfast, in which during his meal Gwen had stormed in hauling Lacleot and Elyan by their ears a frightened Leon and Percival following. She had forced them to apologize for taking him to the tavern and allowing him to announce his wedding in such an 'informal manner'.

Arthur had promptly thrown them out, their pleading and shouting all too much for his poor head. 

George was then the next to interrupt his peace, arriving with a message that an emergency council meeting was requested by the council. _Helsin was behind this, he was certain._

On his very reluctant journey to said meeting, he had passed numerous servants who would have been more than capable of sending off the letter, but he made a plethora of excuses along the way, deciding it would be best suited if he were the one to hand such an important message. _It would be suchhhh a shame if it were to be misplaced..._

The council meeting went as one who "royally fucked up" would expect.

“Who are the knights who took the king to the tavern to get drunk and then allowed him to announce his marriage?” Helsin seethed the moment they had all sat. 

His four knights paled considerably, looking anywhere but at the angry old man who began a long-winded lecture of the importance of proper engagement and marriage etiquette. 

It was nearly ten minutes into the rant when Arthur decided his brain could not take one more word out of the old noble, “Helsin, I take responsibility for my own actions and if that is how I wanted my wedding to be announced then that is how it will be. I will not sit here and listen to the same complaint for hours. Does anyone have any concerns of genuine value?”

Helsin's splutter is silenced by a single glare. 

“When will King Tor and Princess Clarine be arriving?” A younger noble questions, gaining several interested nods. 

Leon glances knowingly at him but Arthur doesn't dare look, facing the others with a stern glare. “They'll arrive when they're able to.” _That was hardly a response. They all knew that once his letter reached the king, a wedding would be planned in only days._

Confusion fills the faces of those in attendance but none are willing to debate with the evidently annoyed king. _And thank the gods for that._

Arthur couldn’t hold back sending the letter any longer. It really did have to be today. 

The rest of the meeting goes quickly, Helsin's sulking allowing the members to speak more freely. Discussions and meetings are finished by mid-day and Arthur finds himself stopping along the way to his chambers, a last attempt to stall what must be done. But like all things, there was only so much time he could waste. It's not until he reaches his door that he lets out a deep breath, resting his head against the wood and fully accepting his faith. 

_This is for Camelot_ he repeats, swinging his doors open with feigned enthusiasm. 

He’s not even a foot into his room when he’s frozen. Too many emotions flowing through him to process the sight ahead.

_What the hell?_

“Merlin?”

The warlock's back is to him, but the hair and figure are unmistakable, his gaze downcast, seemingly oblivious to the king's arrival.

Arthur doesn't know what to make of the lack of response, taking another hesitant step when the brunette turns. The paper in Merlin's hand makes his heart drop as it's returned to the desk.

_The letter--the exact one he had been about to send._

The mage finally looks up, bright, wet eyes meeting his own with a smile so broken the king can't find it within himself to breathe. 

“Congratulations Arthur.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> meep, xoxo sorry tehe. 
> 
> only 2 more chapters left. I actually have most of it written so it won't take ages like it usually has. wheep <3 
> 
> after this is done I'll finish up mad men (dark merwaine fic, wink wink) and then FINALLY FINALLY finish my victuuri fic like gosh I'm dying to work on it. justice for my favs.


	14. Chapter 14

Merlin should have known better.

 _To be fair, when had anything in his life gone as_ **_he_ ** _planned?_

He’d ridden straight to Camelot, adrenaline keeping him ignorant to his aching body. Riding with no rest from Ealdor to the kingdom was hardly reasonable, but he kept on nevertheless. Nothing else mattered, he just had to get to Arthur. _Had to tell him how he truly felt._

The sorcerer had no interest in seeing his other friends, in reality too scared that any encounter would strip him of his courage. So Merlin did what any other sensible young man would; climbed a few windows, cast multiple life-saving spells, and eventually -- not without acquiring one too many bruises -- made it to the hall leading to Arthur’s room. 

The reality of what he was doing sunk in as he reached the royal chambers, clenching his fist anxiously before the door. The odds weren’t in his favor, he knew as much. Especially not after their last encounter in the forest. But he had to try, he owed them both that _._

With the last remnants of courage he musters a knock, holding his breath as he awaits an annoyed response or the flinging of large doors. 

Seconds, then minutes...but there’s nothing, silence bubbling uncomfortably as he shifts from foot to foot. 

Merlin had failed to think this far, caught up in his own distractions. _Of course,_ Arthur wouldn’t be lounging in his room mid-day, the man had a whole kingdom to run. 

_Dammit. So much for courage._

He could sit in front of the door and wait, but it was all too likely that guards or servants would spot him and make a horrific deal of his arrival, if he wasn’t arrested for sneaking in that was. _Being detected really was not an option._

To Gauis’ quarters it was... _or it would have been._

“Let us go to the Tavern tonight!”

“Lance has marriage turned you into a drunk?”

“My sister is quite a handful, can you blame the man?”

Merlin spins frantically, the knights approaching footsteps drawing nearer with each turn. _Seriously his luck could not get worse._

A split-second decision sends the chamber doors flying, holding his breath as he squeezes into the room’s corner, a mumbled prayer that the knights were only doing their hourly hall check and not entering the king's room.

He’d definitely be a fugitive if they found him in such a compromising position. 

It’s five long, tense minutes before he allows himself to breathe, sliding down onto the floor with a relieved sigh. Merlin is met with instant nostalgia when he finally raises his head, memories flashing through him like a flood; all the moments, good and bad they had shared in these very chambers...How painful that night two years ago had been...And despite the pain they had caused one another, Merlin loved Arthur with every bit of himself. He loved Arthur in a way that didn’t entirely make sense. Even when he tried to extinguish those emotions, he couldn’t and truthfully it scared him.

Arthur was someone he could live without, destiny was on its way to being fulfilled and Merlin had done his job but... _e didn’t want to be done_. He wanted more, Merlin wanted affectionate insults, light jabs, pouts, and laughter. He wanted it all and it seemed only Arthur had that nauseating effect on him. A strange and twisted fate entwined with their destiny. 

_It was terrifying...truly._

Merlin shakes his head, pushing thoughts away in a useless attempt to avoid the upcoming headache. 

He’d just have to return later-- if he hadn’t completely lost his nerve -- the aches from his reckless ride suddenly too prominent to ignore. 

The sorcerer moves towards the door with an agitated sigh, though he’s clumsy and tired and would he really be himself if he didn’t trip? So trip he does, groaning as he clutches his newest bruise. 

_Really? Would he ever get a bre-_ _Huh?_ _Had Arthur found a manservant as bad as Merlin was?_

A crumpled paper lies before him, the culprit of his ill-fated fall. “Seriously,” he mutters aloud, “How hard is it for that prat to pick up paper?”

Merlin recognizes the intricate designs used for royal treaties or letters between kings. He had, after all, been the author of one too many in his days as a manservant. 

He reaches out subconsciously, stopping his own motion as a new debate brews internally. _If he read it, would that be an invasion of privacy?_ _No doubt, it was also probably treason of the highest order._ _But...but...no one would know..._

Curiosity has always been an unquenchable trait within the young sorcerer. A trait Arthur had always reprimanded, but Merlin finds himself reaching down nevertheless, wondering what treaty or trade had made Arthur so angry that he’d have to crumple and throw it across the room. 

A soft smile finds its way onto his face at the thought, the image a fond memory as he flattens the discarded letter. 

His smile is gone the moment he begins reading.

_[ King Tor,_

_It would be both Camelot and I’s pleasure to accept your marriage proposal with princess Clarine. If-]_

The letter before him is unfinished and yet, it still holds the power to shatter his heart. 

Merlin should leave, he knows that. He should get back on his horse and pretend he’d never been there...but he’s standing instead, hands trembling as he makes his way to Arthur’s desk, knowing that’s where answers will be found. _And he’s right, of course._ It’s right there, in all its horrific glory. Golden and red and very much signed by Arthur himself. Merlin snatches it, heart stuttering as he attempts to read it through.

His brain can’t catch up with his eyes, he reads it over and over again until it finally resonates, until he finally lets reality be _reality._ _A princess. Yes, it makes sense._

He hates how weak he is, hates that only seconds ago old memories had served as a warped sense of hope. He especially despises how his eyes well with tears every time he reads another line _What had he been expecting? That they would forget every law and live a picture-perfect life together?_

Merlin bites back a sob, cursing whatever fucked up destiny has led him here again. This was his reality. This was his life. Merlin didn’t get to win, he didn’t get happy endings or love stories. _That just wasn’t him._

His ears buzz, that terrible white noise sound. So much so, he doesn’t hear the doors swing open, the shocked breath that’s let out, or the boots of a king drawing closer to him. He does however feel the presence, he feels the way his knees buckle and his heart aches, the ever so soft and confused call of his name. 

“ _Merlin?_ ” 

He wants to run. He’s certain disappearing is the best thing for them both. But he can’t...not now...not here...not again. 

Merlin forces down every bit of pain and heartbreak as he turns slowly, dropping the wretched letter back to its rightful place.

Arthur deserved happiness. He deserved _everything._ All Merlin could do was apologize for his mistakes and leave. Force himself to move on, just like he had been meant to all those months ago. He wasn’t needed anymore. 

_Just pretend one last time_ he begs his heart. _One last time._

So he does. He looks up, meeting pretty blue eyes with a pained smile he prays is enough. 

“Congratulations Arthur.” 

* * *

  
  
“Oh..uh sorry,” Merlin continues with a nervous laugh, wringing his hands before him. “I didn’t mean to snoop. I was waiting for you and I should have just stayed outside but I didn’t want to run into anyone so -- I’m sorry, I know that was improper of-”

“Merlin,” Arthur interrupts, staring between the bumbling man and the letter he'd been ready to send just moments earlier, “That letter, it-” There was no excuse. He had already read it. It was exactly that...a marriage acceptance. Arthur couldn’t lie. _Why would he anyway?_

But Merlin’s face, the unmistakeable tears clinging to his long lashes… _did it mean something? Did-_

“It’s okay," The warlock interrupts kindly, obvious to his verbal struggle. 

_It’s not okay,_ and he holds back the shout he so desperately wants to let out. Nothing has been okay since Merlin left two years ago. _So why was he here now? Why had he come back?_

“Merlin...what’s going on? Has something happened to the druid village?”

“No, no nothing like that. I just -- I wanted to talk to you. Um...I mean... if you have time.”

Arthur’s heart pounds through his ears, attempting what he can only hope is a calm nod. _This could mean a million things_. It could mean that Merlin decided to-- _to what?_ His brain runs to dangerous territory, territory that will hurt him all over again if he falls for its desperate hope. 

Arthur needs to know if the darkest part in him that refuses to let go of Merlin isn't just pitiful imagination...if Merlin also holds that part within himself. 

So many questions and this time, no matter the outcome he'll get answers. Because as selfish as it is, he couldn’t keep seeing Merlin, not in this manner. Arthur had promised himself he’d move forward but that was impossible if the very man that held his heart constantly crept back into his life. It was unkingly and cruel and probably terrible of him, but the thought of having Merlin in attendance at his wedding with some women made him sick. The man he loved, sitting and watching, congratulating. Arthur couldn’t do that. He refused to do so even if it made him a proper king.

“I,” Merlin proceeds hesitantly, “I owe you an apology Arthur and I hope you’ll be willing to listen.”

The king's head is spinning again, utter confusion as he stares.“What’re you talking about?” he returns, brows scrunching. 

“I-I’ve hurt you and been unfair to-”

“Merlin, you do not owe me an apology, you have done nothing wro-”

“Arthur please, just... _please_ -”

He’s confused. So terribly confused, but he can't deny the pleading man before him anything...especially when it means Merlin is talking rather than running. "Of course.”

Merlin breathes, that deep breath he’d always take before he’d burst into speech.“I...I’m not sure where to start but I am terribly sorry for how things have turned out. Recently I’ve taken time to think about everything that happened...about that night and I realized I hadn't been fair. I expected you to forgive me after all the lies I’d told. I was upset and hurt so I left because I thought that was the best thing for us both and-”

“You did the right thing,” he interrupts, startling them both. Merlin’s face clouds, confusion written through it, and Arthurs almost just as confused by himself, but he means it. Because the bitter truth is he’d have never appreciated or understood Merlin if he'd stayed in Camelot.

“Wh-what?” 

“Merlin, you leaving was for the best. What I said to you was unforgivable and yes, I might have had the right to be angry but I hadn’t the right to threaten you. If you hadn’t left I’m not sure I would have ever been able to become a better man...a better king.”

“Do I...bring out the worst in you?” Merlin returns, voice laced with hurt. 

Arthur curses himself, shaking his head frantically as he takes a step forward. “That’s not what I meant at all. I...dammit you know I’m not good at...feelings. I...how do I say this? I-I loved you and the way I showed my love was through being a complete and utter brute. I was horrible to you and I didn’t understand how much you’d done for me. I don’t think I would have been able to understand if you’d never left, I’d still be focusing on my anger like a fool.”

“Oh...” Merlin breathes, the tension radiating from his frame lessening.

Arthur shifts uncomfortably, “Do-do you wish you had stayed?”

“No..." The warlock begins softly, "If I had stayed, Morgana would still be consumed by dark magic and the druids might have suffered terrible losses. I am also glad I left, but I hate the reason behind it. What I meant to say before was that I shouldn’t have left thinking you were a cruel man, because you aren't. You were being human, and since the war you’ve been nothing but lovely to me. I’m really sorry if I've ever made you feel like I blame you for what's happened. You are a good man and a great king and I know now that I wasn’t the only person hurt by what happened.”

Merlin takes a shaky pause, his gaze unfaltering with determination as he continues, “I-I hope now and forever that you are happy in a way that you have always deserved to be Arthur. I-”

“Merlin, shut up...please.” It's not Arthur's finest moment or prettiest words, but it's all the king can muster as he stares at the younger man he is still so undeniably in love with. He doesn't want to hear more, he hates the way Merlin is torturing himself...hates that it sounds like the beginning of a goodbye. 

Merlin lowers his gaze, visibly deflating, “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to overstep-”

“No,” Arthur interrupts, taking another step closer “You’re right you did hurt me. You broke my heart that night.” 

Merlin flinches, a quiet nod of agreement. 

“But what hurt me the most wasn’t that you were a sorcerer or that you hid from me, because I know now why you did it. What hurt me most was watching you leave over and over again, knowing that I couldn’t be the one you relied on because I had lost that trust.”

He takes in his own breath, deep and needy, “We hurt each other Merlin. We broke each other’s hearts. I know that and I’m just as sorry. You are the last person I ever intended on hurting. I had promised myself I’d keep you safe and I was the very person that drove you away, you had every right to think me a cruel man...to hate me.”

A single tear drips down Merlin's bowed face, the younger man's failed attempt at hiding his hurt. 

_He’s so young,_ Arthur realizes. The king had always known but seeing him like this, knowing he'd done everything for their destiny, he feels a sharp indescribable pain burning through him. _He is so young and he’s done this all alone._

Arthur’s desperate to hold him, to reach out and wipe his face into a smile. 

“I’ve never hated you,” Merlin whispers, “I know that I’ve been distant and terrible, but I want you to know that it was never that I didn’t-” he trails off hesitantly. 

“That you didn’t what?” Arthur urges.

“Care...because I did. I do care, I just -- I wasn’t sure what to do.”

_Just a few more steps and they could be touching, holding, comforting one another._

“I thought I’d never see you again," Arthur admits quietly, "I was certain you despised me.”

“No!” Merlin shakes his head, eyes wide. “It wasn’t that at all, I just...I had to make decisions for myself and that was new to me. I didn't want to...fail. ”

“I don’t think that’s possible."

The younger man peers at him curiously, “Wh-what do you mean?”

“It’s not possible for you to be a failure, Merlin. You've only ever done your best. There is no failure in that.”

There’s that blush. A light pink running through his pale skin and Arthur’s feet are a threat to them both, wanting so terribly to close the short distance. 

“Oh--Uhm...thank you," Merlin gives an attempt at a smile, "For that and for listening to me. I guess...that’s all. I mean I know there’s a lot more but I don’t want to keep you. ”

“You’re not keeping me," He insists, inching forward once more, "Thank you for coming here. I hated how we left things.”

Merlin nods gently, his hands once again wringing before him.

They stare at one another until they've both grown red, both ensure what more they can say. An awkward silence growing as they redirect their gazes. 

_Dinner! Arthur could ask him to have dinner and they could discuss everything furth-_

“I should...go. I didn’t mean to barge in like this.”

_Wha-_

“You’re leaving, just like that?” Arthur sounds bitter and cold, but he doesn't find that he cares. The warmth that had been growing alongside hope dwindling, a bleak pain taking over.

“I...is there something I forgot?” 

“Is that all you've come for?”

“Arthur-” 

“No." He doesn't want excuses or stories, he wants the truth. Until now he's forced emotions and feelings from himself that he'd never discussed before and he'd be damned if he let Merlin leave without another word. "Just tell me. I need to know. Is this it for us?”

Merlin’s bottom lip tremors, a flashback to that night years ago and Arthur wants to take those finals steps to hold his hand, but he's stuck between anger and pain and he's lost and confused, an honest mess in his own body. 

“Merlin-” He pushes, more gentle as he notes the shake in the warlock's hands. “If you need to leave I understand, but I can’t keep doing this. If this all you wanted to do, then this has to be it. Seeing you like this, I can’t do it. I’m not strong enough to see you and pretend I don’t feel anything.”

It’s quiet. The type of quiet that burns and aches at your soul.

“I don’t want to," Merlin chokes out once far too much time has passed. 

“What don’t you want?”

“I--I don’t want to leave.”

Arthur reaches forward hesitantly and then more confidently when Merlin doesn't dive out the window, gently gripping the smaller hand in his own, "Then stay, you belong here. I want you here.”

Merlin struggles to reign in his tears, shaking his head, “I can't watch you get-” he stops himself, another shake of his head as he stares at the floor.

_Married. Merlin doesn't want to watch him get married. At least that's what he's praying the younger man means._

Arthur's heart hammers as he releases the warlock's hand, picking up the wretched letter and holding it out between them, “You read it, didn't you?"

“I didn’t mean to,” Merlin whispers guiltily. 

“Is this what you meant? You don't want to watch me get married?"

“If - if it makes you happy then-”

“Dammit, Merlin just be honest!" He snaps roughly, a bit guilty at the way the other man flinches, but not enough to stop the growing frustration, "Be selfish, whether it hurts me or not, I need you to tell me. I can’t read your mind, so tell me, and don't you dare lie to me.”

"You..." Merlin stops hesitantly, an internal debate visible in his stormy eyes, "You should marry someone who will love you, for you."

“Do you think she won’t love me?” 

“No, of course she will. She would be mad not to.”

“So then what's the reason? The real one?" 

“Merlin,” and Arthur's going to take a leap so large his heart is beating out of his chest. If this was the last time, he’d want no regrets, no what if’s.

“-If you love me, tell me. Tell me and I will destroy this letter. I’ll rip it here and now, but I need you to say it so that I'm certain you want this as much as I do."

Arthur knows Merlin is overthinking every possible scenario like he always has and the king is tempted to push for an answer, to be meaner or rougher, but he wants it to come naturally. _No matter the response, he just needs Merlin to mean it._

They stand in front of each other for minutes, Merlin's back facing him. A manner in which he can't tell if the younger man is planning his escape or deciding a response. 

Arthur startles when he finally does speak, never turning, but voice so certain and strong it reminds him of the leader he'd seen him be on the battlefield. “Don’t marry her.” 

“Why?” he returns instantly. He needs to hear it. He wants to be sure the love he has for the other man isn't unrequited. “Tell me why,” he demands. 

Merlin turns then, strong and beautiful, eyes set on him with an intensity that makes him shiver, “Because she won’t love you as much as I do.” And Arthur swells, the way he hasn't in years, a real laugh leaving him as he rips the letter in his hands, grinning maniacally as it litters the floor. 

He's filled with even more affection when Merlin takes the final step into his arms, pulling him into a tight embrace, head burying into Arthur's neck. 

“Gods-" he chokes, "How did I fall for someone so infuriating?" 

Arthur is almost afraid it's far too mean, but Merlin responds, his own voice a watery laugh, “You’re an absolute clotpole.”

They laugh as if it’s the funniest joke, holding each other tighter every second longer. Arthur can’t tell if hours, minutes, or seconds pass, neither of them willing to let go. It's more than he could ask for, more than he'd have ever expected. 

Merlin finally pulls back just enough so that he can gaze at the shreds of letter, “Do you think that was a mistake?”

Arthur holds back an insult, instead pulling Merlin's head back into the crook of his neck. “Did you mean it when you said you loved me?”

“Of course," The younger man mutters sternly.

“Then how could that ever be a mistake?"

“But -- the council and marriage and an heir, I can’t give you any of that.”

Arthur sighs, he knows they're valid arguments but he just wants to be happy, wants to hold the man before him, and pretend they don't have a treacherous path ahead of them. “Let's face these problems when we encounter them. No matter what we have to face, I want you by my side. I promise I'll do everything I can to make you happy, to gain back both the trust and time we've lost over the years."

“I'd like that," Merlin whispers quietly, “Though we both have a lot of reacquainting to do...it might take a long time."

“We have all the time we need,” Arthur says into their embrace, “We'll take it slow, learn each other, honestly this time. No matter how long, I'll wait for you, Merlin."

His warlock sniffles, holding him just a little tighter. "Thank you, Arthur...truly. For believing in me and for... _for choosing me_."

The king has a million things he wishes to say at that moment. _How could it ever be anyone else? Shouldn't he be thanking Merlin? What mad man wouldn't choose the beautiful warlock before him?_ But he only smiles, whispering softly into the younger man's ear, "Always."

_And it would forever be always. Merlin was that for him...his always._

It’s a nuisance when their legs become numb and they’re forced apart, but even as he cancels the rest of his meetings for the day and they eat dinner by the fireplace with promises, apologies, and a lifetime worth of stories, their hands never stop touching a gentle reminder that it's real...that somehow they've found their way back to each other. 

It’s far past midnight when they’re wrapped together on a seat far too small for the both of them. Merlin snores lightly into his ear, puffy eyes, shut and fluttering, his hold on Arthur far too tight, the king’s limbs stiff and numb from trying to keep the warlock upright.

Arthur doesn’t care. He couldn’t think of a single thing that would make him happier. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me take long time when me said I no take long time. 
> 
> Cavewoman vibes sorry, but like not sorry because the editing was worth it.
> 
> Leave comments and I'll kiss you or like not kiss you but give you a good high five which is basically equivalent to a kiss. k bye
> 
> OMG I ALMOST FORGOT PLS PLS GIVE ME alternative names for this damn fic. This is way too long to be a prequel, I'm going to make a king's king the sequel and we're all going to forget you read that one first.  
> Anyway I'll give credit and I would absolutely adore you. If you guys don't recommend a good one the new title is going to be shit just an FYI xoxo
> 
> If i do say so myself they're so fuckign cute together bye. Next chapter last chapter WOOO


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